The population of 100 Mile House recently doubled - not because it is the beginning of Christmas shopping season - and not because the latest shipment of flu vaccine cures the winter blues. This was the annual arrival of Bohemian Waxwings, and their arrival appeared to be taking place in far greater numbers than expected.

Yesterday, I casually sauntered towards the thrift store amidst the trilling of Bohemian Waxwings, and assumed that the usual flock of 100 birds or so was milling about the ornamental fruit trees lining the main street of town. Then I noticed the ornamental trees seemed to sway about in motions contrary to the prevailing winds.

I stopped and pivoted in a circle. This was the biggest congregation of Bohemian Waxwings I had ever witnessed. There were Waxwings in the Poplar trees south of the thrift store. There were Waxwings in the trees above the surveyor's office. Waxwings were perched on the edge of every building roof; even the air was alive with fluttering waxed wings. I had no way to judge how many there were.

When I am confronted with a small flock of 40 to 50 birds in flight, and there is enough time, it is not too difficult to do a count. When a flying flock is too large, I count as many birds as possible then estimate the likely size of the flock just from the birds I did manage to count.

In this case my rapid counting method would not suffice. Still, it was the only bird counting ammunition I had, and I couldn't stop myself from grouping together clumps of birds. My eyes roved from the first clump of 40 birds, to an adjoining clump of 40 birds; then another, and another. I felt my mind crashing. Was the count one thousand birds, or two thousand birds? I did not know. But, I'd never seen so many Waxwings together in one place.

Finally, I gave up counting and simply stood looking into the air, mouth agape like a birding yokel (not a good idea when 1000 or more fruit eating birds are swirling around above your head.)

Back home I wrote the sighting as 1000 plus Bohemian Waxwings.

I returned to town later that day and spotted groups of 25 Waxwings scurrying here and there along the streets, but nothing like the earlier huge flock. I thought maybe they moved on and the spectacle was over.

But, early Sunday morning, with a light snowfall ushering in the day, a huge flock of 1000 or so Waxwings began congregating around a mountain ash tree near the restaurant where I usually have my morning coffee. Like a cloud of living smoke being drawn through the limbs, the birds spiraled upwards and downwards. Each time the birds passed though the tree, the tree appeared to snag several hundred, and then release the birds on the next fly-through. So great were the numbers of Waxwings that people who generally weren't conscious of bird activity, stopped and marveled.

This massive flock of Bohemian Waxwings was not out to impress onlookers with aerial acrobatics or sheer numbers; these birds were hungry. Every time a bird perched, even momentarily in the Mountain Ash tree, it tore off and swallowed berries. This flying to and from the Mountain Ash represented an almost non-stop refueling process and it would take many pounds of fruit to feed thousands of Waxwings. Once the fruit is devoured the huge flocks dissipate and move onwards to a new town. Then, once again drop from the heavens and awaken another crowd of human onlookers from their early winter reveries.