 More Head Filler (or things I’ve recently learned) Knowing keeps one smug; learning keeps one humble. - Me The Olive-sided Flycatcher is a medium-sized Flycatcher which migrates northward, and during spring nests in the 100 Mile House area. It is a bird I thought I knew rather well because I can handily identify it by sight or sound. This ability seemed sufficient for my needs as my relationship with the Olive-sided Flycatcher is limited to coming upon it once or twice a year then judiciously writing its name on some paper, or checking a box next to its name on a bird list. Recently though I chanced to spend a number of days within the nesting territory of an Olive-sided Flycatcher, and a rather different bird emerged. Some years ago I happened upon an Olive-sided Flycatcher in a remote setting and heard its familiar call of “hic, free beer.” The call originated in a tall spruce tree that stood on the edge of an open sedge meadow within a perimeter of live and dead willows. This one encounter was responsible for my belief that the Olive-sided Flycatcher’s preferred habitat was a swamp setting of spruce, sedge and willow, and that the bird would be unhappy unless it lived far from civilization. So, wasn’t I surprised to spot an Olive-sided Flycatcher residing on the property during my first few days of house-sitting? One day, as I walked along Bridge Creek, I heard the familiar call of several Red Crossbills. The sound piped continuously from the top of a tree and I was positive that it was a Crossbill. After all, this wasn’t the “hic, free beer” call, this was a broad “pep, pep, pep.” When I looked up and studied the vocalist through binoculars, I was surprised to see an Olive-sided Flycatcher. In the following days I discovered the Flycatcher was not just passing through, it nested in a large area between the creek and house. This land consists mostly of mixed poplars and a few fir trees with a dry under-story of grasses and forbs. This was nothing like the wet sedge meadows surrounded by willows and spruce that I imagined the bird favored. The Olive-sided Flycatcher perched in the top of a poplar and telegraphed its ownership of the upland territory through constant use of the call I at first thought belonged to the Red Crossbill. The call was persistent and became one of the sounds of the summer day. Just guessing I’d say that the Olive-sided made the “pep” sound about 90 times a minute and it went on for hours at a time. Only when twilight couched the yard in darkness each night did the bird finally fall silent. The calling began again the next day at dawn. Occasionally, in the morning, it called a hasty “hic-free-beer” as if attempting to make me feel comfortable. So, has my old image of the Olive-sided Flycatcher as a wilderness-loving swamp dweller changed? I doubt it, however I was surprised and first impressions are hard to shake. Perhaps I just need more visions of wilderness-loving wild things, than urban-tolerant wild things. Interesting Feeding Techniques My next recently discovered item of interest was not so much the shaking of preconceived knowledge; rather it was bearing witness to an interesting Killdeer feeding technique. As a personal disclaimer, I admit to avoiding Killdeer as much as possible. They do have their charms, but they are also one of the noisiest birds to come upon. So strident are the Killdeer shrieks that it is a relief to quickly put as much ground as possible between this bird and myself. The other day I strayed within range of the Killdeer. I still cherished my ability to hear, but I also wanted to discover the identity of a flock of Sandpipers who just happened to be the Killdeer’s pond-mates. Between bouts of squinting at Sandpipers my scope accidentally came to rest on a Killdeer performing some odd actions with its feet. It tamped the wet mud, kneading it in a gentle bouncing motion like dribbling a basketball stuck to the ground. This reminded me of something I often did when I was a kid; tamping wet mud so the water rose to the top and the ground liquefied. I was trying to get my gumboots stuck in the mud. Was the Killdeer setting up a vibration which scared the invertebrates to the surface? It seemed likely as the Killdeer stabbed something with its beak then moved forward and resumed the ‘one leg dancing’ action. I watched the Killdeer perform this ritual several times convinced that I was seeing an as yet undiscovered feeding strategy. Upon further investigation I discovered this funny leg action is practiced by Plovers and is well know by other birders. (The Killdeer is a Plover, but Plover is rarely appended to the familiar Killdeer moniker.) The mud-stomping, feeding action is named ‘foot stirring.’ Other Bouts of Recent Learning are as Follows: Small songbirds leave their nests long before they can fly; even when overcrowding is not a problem. This seems like it could be disastrous for the young birds, but on the contrary is quite normal. The “growling” call notes of the Warbling Vireo, and the Cassin’s Vireo, are quite distinct; the Warbling Vireo emits a harsh ‘whay…whay…whay’ with pauses between the whay’s. The Cassin’s emitss a clustered ‘zshib, zshib, zshib. This should greatly assist in identification if the bird is not seen and only the call notes are heard. But that’s enough larnin’ fer one column. I leave you with the following wise words: Half of the word “ignorance” is composed of the word “ignore.” This suggests that ignoring a thing is probably half the reason we don’t know nothin’ about a particular thing in the first place. To e-mail Tom CLICK HERE To look at previous column CLICK HERE |
