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Dec 14, 2006  These Are a Few of My Favourite (recent) Sightings “Chestnut-backed Chickadees roosting on an open spire. Black-caps flitting in the rose…” Amazingly, this scene met my eyes when I looked from the living-room window on the morning of December 8th. And, though a Chestnut-backed Chickadee may not qualify as a rare bird - sighting one in the yard was unexpected and a first for me in the Cariboo. (Just to set the record straight, my rather musical introduction suggested that the bird in question was sitting on a spire. This was not actually the case, and lucky for me, because if it was that far away it would have been downright hard to distinguish from one of the many Black-capped Chickadees. In fact, the first thing that struck me about the visitor was its similarity to the Black-capped Chickadees.) I went outside to investigate and found more surprises. After seating myself on the bright orange vintage metal deck chair I sighted another Chestnut-backed Chickadee among the many birds in the lilac bush. There were indeed two Chestnut-backs! And a moment later, they were joined by a third. The third bird is said with some trepidation. It did not appear to be a run of the mill Chestnut-backed Chickadee. If the first two were the norm, the third, seen from a distance of 6 feet or so, looked more like a cross between a Boreal and a Chestnut-backed. It had a stocky appearance and a very dark back and dark upper chest. It’s overall appearance and demeanor suggested a more sluggish variation of a completely different species of Chickadee. Not completely Boreal and not completely Chestnut-backed, yet all I could decide was “its another Chestnut-backed.” Luckily, for the state of my mental health, I never saw that particular bird again but the other two intermittently return to the feeders. I can tell when they are among the large flock of Mountains and Black-caps by listening for their strident calls and by watching their intolerance for each other. Upon consulting my October 30th notes I see that Ken, who lives about a mile closer to town had a Chestnut-backed Chickadee at this feeder. Perhaps the visitors I now host came from his feeder. If so they have been staying around for some time now. Pygmy Perching Recently, I was on a walk through the town subdivision on a dark afternoon, and spied a dumpy looking bird perched in a tree on someone’s front yard. I walked close to the edge of their property but didn’t dare to use my binoculars, as the picture window of the house was directly behind the bird in question - and I didn’t want the residents of the house to get the wrong idea. No typical bird head jutting from the ball of feathers, it was a Pygmy Owl. I tried to make sounds to attract its attention but it appeared to be fixated on something in the other direction. While I investigating the Owl, a flock of Pine Grosbeaks flew into a nearby tree but even this did not distract the small hunter. Short on Short-ears On Saturday, I went to a flea market and someone asked me what sort of Owl might hunt on open fields in the daytime at the other end of Horse Lake. From the description given I suggested that it might be a Short-eared Owl, and added that I hadn’t seen one for many years. The next day I took a load of stuff to the dump and was surprised to see a Short-eared Owl sitting casually on a stump next to the road. We stopped the vehicle and, with no pesky picture windows to worry about, used binoculars to study the Owl as much as we wanted. The dark feathering around the eyes of a Short-eared Owl always makes me think of someone who’s applied mascara a bit heavily, and from the dark smudges flash golden penetrating eyes. I judged by the owls overall tawny colouration, the bird we scrutinized was most likely a female. Ice Chiseler I only fill the winter bird-watering dish on those rare days when water stays liquid long enough for birds to actually get a sip or two before it refreezes. Yesterday was such a day, but I neglected to add warm water to the heap of ice formed in the very cold weather. Not deterred by the situation, a Pileated Woodpecker landed on the branch supporting the water dish and hammered away at the ice. Chips flew as it hacked at the frozen contents of the dish and soon the Pileated dipped its long bill into the hole it made. Judging by throat action the Woodpecker was drinking. It reminded me of Hummingbirds drinking with tongues drawn rapidly back and forth bringing water into the mouth with each stab. After the Pileated finished, Chickadees began visiting the open waterhole. I guess the birds don’t need me as much as I thought. A Partridge in a Poplar Tree Yesterday, I was seated in the bright orange vintage metal deck chair with coffee cup in gloved hand and thinking that all the yard birds were under my scrutiny. That was until I looked up - way up. Above me, silently going about the business of feeding on poplar buds, was a Ruffed Grouse. My sudden appearance below must have caused it to halt all activities, but now, quite used to me, it moved about with impunity. I was amazed at how silently it flew the short distance between branches once it picked available buds. I guess they save their heart-stopping thundering flights for times when they want to depart the ground. To e-mail Tom CLICK HERE To look at previous column CLICK HERE |
