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August 9, 2002  All through last winter, whenever I chafed at the restrictions of the season, my mind turned to a plan that was forming, one that would see me breach the Rockies in spring and seek out some eastern Warblers. I had no real hope of making this plan a reality but with spring so far off and many lottery draws yet to be made, I had no reason to doubt that I could launch my plan. June came. My plan was still in my mind but initiating was impossible. Major elements of the proposed journey were sadly lacking. For instance my vehicle was in a bad state of repair and would not be suitable for such a long drive. Still I would not abandon the idea of making my journey, a trip that I was now calling ‘Into the Warbler Wave’; a rallying title to inspire continued interest in the idea of seeing eastern Warblers. When July came I was growing doubtful but suddenly the pieces fell into place. A roadworthy van was offered for my use and the sale of a painting gave me the money for gas and other necessities. A friend who likes to drive would accompany me so now all I had to do was gather up my adventurous spirit and hit the road. On a fine day in July the trip began. We crossed the plateau we call home and dropped down to Little Fort and the Yellowhead Highway. The van headed north. Some hours later we were at the gates of Jasper Park and the border of Alberta. The mountains of Jasper were impressive but since the day was nearing evening I had to formulate a destination where we could camp for the night. Just off the main highway, on my Alberta map, one that was some 15 years old, I saw a spot called William A. Switzer Provincial Park. It looked like it might be a possible place to stop. We turned north just before Hinton and soon we were at the park. At least we were at a big billboard at the side of the road that showed the layout of the park’s campsites. As soon as I got out of the car I saw a large orange lily just up the bank. I went up to look at it. I knew I had never seen this plant before. We weren’t in B.C. anymore! The first campsite we checked was loaded with campers all settled in for the evening. I hoped the next campsite spot wasn’t so popular. We turned in on the next road and passed one camping area and reached the end of the road. It was a grassy spot with about twelve camping sites and had the rather sinister name Graveyard Lake. Only one site was occupied. Graveyard or not, this looked very tranquil. As I stepped from the van the song of a White-throated Sparrow unfolded on the cool evening air. My heart soared. Immediately another White-throated Sparrow a little further off sang, and another. The song of this Sparrow was so familiar to me when I grew up in North Western Ontario and the strains of it are as moving as any anthem or for that matter the song of any other bird. With night falling I knew we should prepare a fire and eat but as bird sounds came to me I kept wandering off to investigate. A persistent Warbler called from the nearby Willows. I saw it but in the poor light I couldn’t identify it. I did however see a Yellow-rumped Warbler. Here, on this side of the Rockies most Yellow-rumps are the Myrtle race and these were no exception. I didn’t sleep at all the first night. It was partly the excitement of the adventure but also in large part, a swarm of no-see-ums that entered and attacked us when the van windows were left open. At four in the morning an odd birdcall had me sliding the van door open as quietly as possible. As soon as I could hear the sound clearly I knew it was an Alder Flycatcher calling ‘reeaabeet’. It was too early to see well, what with the overcast sky, but I began walking through the willows around the camp. Soon the light came up and visibility improved. For the next few hours I listened to and watched two species of birds I had never seen before, the Blue-headed Vireo and the Philadelphia Vireo. The Blue-headed is a lot like the Vireo we know in the Cariboo, the Cassin’s Vireo, but the Blue-headed has definite traits of its own as I soon learned. One thing I liked about this bird was its penchant for hanging out in willows that weren’t very tall. This made viewing it very easy. The Cassin’s Vireo prefers the tops of mature poplars and is very difficult to observe. Often at eye level, the Blue-headed is a striking bird. Its head is much darker than the Cassin’s, so the white eye ‘spectacles’ stand out very well on the face. The yellow colouration on its sides is also very obvious. But all these traits come in second behind this bird’s incredible voice. From a distance the song structure is reminiscent of the Cassin’s with its ‘question and answer’ delivery of mostly two syllable utterances but up close the richness of the voice of the Blue-headed is incredible. One favoured phrase sounds like the question "D’you eat?" The sound of this simple expression is so strange I could only compare it to the melodic sound made by an old style radio when the dial was turned between stations and the strange electronic musical burble would come clearly through the speakers. The Blue-headed Vireo has many more expressions, some it sings in the morning and others only in the evening. It doesn’t go on and on in the manner of the Cassin’s, seeming to prefer bouts of loud singing and then silence. At this campsite I believe there were about five singing Blue-headed Vireos. When they weren’t singing the Blue-heads would hop about in the willows, quite easy to find and observe. So the Blue-headed Vireo went down as the first lifer of my ‘Warbler Wave’ journey. That wasn’t the only lifer to be found at the William A. Switzer Provincial Park, but more about the others next week. To e-mail Tom CLICK HERE To look at previous column CLICK HERE |
