It is Tuesday night and there is not a single post on Ontbirds regarding the Ivory Gull seen on Monday. If it had flown onto the ice even a few minutes later, or descended to land mere yards away, it may have gone unobserved by its original finders, who had identified all they could see and whose departure was imminent. But a small white bird caught the attention of these two birdwatchers, hearts soon pounding as they realized the significance of their find. Photos are taken for the record books and within minutes, a report goes out across a listserv at the touch of a few buttons, an obscenely convenient network connecting hundreds; hundreds immediately aware of a rarity minutes ago a distant thought. The thrill of the hunt ensues as a few dedicated enthusiasts and listers dash to the lakeshore, hoping for a glimpse of this special visitor. It is not to be. This will be a brief encounter, witnessed by two individuals favored by fortune. The gull departs. This visitor, unaware of its celebrity, is searched for in vain by each subsequent arrival, unaware of the interest they themselves create as they scan with scopes and binoculars in the bitter wind and waning light. As the sky darkens, so do the spirits of the watchers. Iceland, Glaucous, and Lesser Black-backed Gulls will have to suffice this night. The Ivory Gull continues westward, snow-white feathers veiled by the night, a phantom flying unseen.

Empty Ice Patch - An Ivory Gull Lament

Mark and I scan for the Ivory Gull at Cherry Beach, Toronto

Photo courtesy of Lynne Freeman

failing light - no miracle tonight – this rare visitor avoids my gaze like she has once before – this heavenly form – this delicate winter-white angel – an ephemeral rest on the lakeshore – a brief appointment yielding disappointment – the shelves of ice carry a congregation – black backed, great and lesser, ring billed iceland glaucous herring – but despite my silent prayer – she is no longer here – yet still my eyes rise skyward - for I cannot bear to miss her once more

____________________________________________________________

Yes. At 3:58pm today, while birding Colonel Sam Smith Park with Mark Field, a report of an Ivory Gull was posted for Cherry Beach, Toronto (an ADULT Ivory Gull no less). Bless the iPhone. I really wish I owned this device for birding. Up-to-date birding reports and directions right at your fingers (not to mention if you ever need a refresher with a bird call, there are helpful apps to do just that). Needless to say, it didn't take us long to decide to ditch Colonel Sam and head across the city (bless having a van) to give the gull a go. Through bitter cold, we made a valiant effort with Jean Iron, the original finder alongside Paul Prior, to spot the gull but she informed us that it had flown directly west away from Cherry Beach and was not spotted again. Check out Jean's site and see the bird by clicking here. I don't know about Mark but I felt slightly defeated as the light faded and the last of the gulls on the patches of ice flew away for the night. This isn't the first time I've missed this rarity. January 2006 was a tough time when I couldn't get home to see the Ivory Gull that showed up at Hillman Marsh and provided great views.

There's still hope this bird will stay. There will certainly be a lot of eyes looking out for it throughout the week and I can assure you I'll be checking out the postings on Ontbirds frequently. I'll add here that although the end of the weekend held the slight disappointment of missing the Ivory, I still had two great days of birding on Sunday and today. I'll be posting full day lists/counts for the days within the week.

2009 Pelee May List

After shamefully cramming a package of petrified marshmallows left over from the holidays into my pleading-for-mercy stomach, I decided it would be a good time to actually put together my full spring list from 2009. I was very happy with my May last year until things spun out of control and my body decided I wasn't treating it well enough and I ended up bed-ridden for the final few days (perhaps after reading the first sentence of this post, you won't be surprised by this). However, I did achieve my goal of seeing more species than the year preceding at 178 (in 2008 I ended up with 175). I definitely would have made it to well over 180 had I not got sick but that's ok. I still ended up with a lifer (Western Meadowlark) and some amazing memories to take away from Pelee during spring migration.

I'm throwing on Ave Maria as I type this list and it's quite relaxing [i.e. making me not worry about some obvious misses (how did I not get Ring-necked Duck, Winter Wren or Solitary Sandpiper?! And some are just unforgivable...no Willow Flycatcher, Blackpoll Warbler, Clay-coloured Sparrow, or Hairy Woodpecker!!)].

Here it is, compiled into one list, my May list from May 3-May 14, 2009 in the Pelee Birding Circle:

Snow Goose
Canada Goose
Mute Swan
Wood Duck
Gadwall
American Wigeon
American Black Duck
Mallard
Blue-winged Teal
Northern Shoveler
Green-winged Teal
Greater Scaup
Lesser Scaup
Surf Scoter
Black Scoter
White-winged Scoter
Bufflehead
Red-breasted Merganser
Ruddy Duck
Ring-necked Pheasant
Wild Turkey
Common Loon
Pied-billed Grebe
Double-crested Cormorant
American Bittern (heard)
Great Blue Heron
Great Egret
Green Heron
Black-crowned Night-Heron
Turkey Vulture
Osprey
Bald Eagle
Northern Harrier
Sharp-shinned Hawk
Cooper's Hawk
Broad-winged Hawk
Red-tailed Hawk
American Kestrel
Merlin
Peregrine Falcon
Common Moorhen
American Coot
Sandhill Crane
Black-bellied Plover
American Golden-Plover
Semipalmated Plover
Killdeer
Spotted Sandpiper
Greater Yellowlegs
Willet
Lesser Yellowlegs
Ruddy Turnstone
Semipalmated Sandpiper
Least Sandpiper
Dunlin
Short-billed Dowitcher
Long-billed Dowitcher
American Woodcock
Little Gull
Bonaparte's Gull
Ring-billed Gull
Herring Gull
Great Black-backed Gull
Caspian Tern
Black Tern
Common Tern
Forster's Tern
Rock Pigeon
Mourning Dove
Black-billed Cuckoo
Eastern Screech-Owl
Great Horned Owl
Chimney Swift
Ruby-throated Hummingbird
Belted Kingfisher
Red-headed Woodpecker
Red-bellied Woodpecker
Downy Woodpecker
Northern Flicker
Eastern Wood-Pewee
Least Flycatcher
Eastern Phoebe
Great Crested Flycatcher
Eastern Kingbird
White-eyed Vireo
Yellow-throated Vireo
Blue-headed Vireo
Warbling Vireo
Philadelphia Vireo
Red-eyed Vireo
Blue Jay
American Crow
Horned Lark
Purple Martin
Tree Swallow
Northern Rough-winged Swallow
Bank Swallow
Cliff Swallow
Barn Swallow
Black-capped Chickadee
Red-breasted Nuthatch
White-breasted Nuthatch
Carolina Wren
House Wren
Sedge Wren
Marsh Wren
Ruby-crowned Kinglet
Blue-gray Gnatcatcher
Eastern Bluebird
Veery
Gray-cheeked Thrush
Swainson's Thrush
Hermit Thrush
Wood Thrush
American Robin
Gray Catbird
Northern Mockingbird
Brown Thrasher
European Starling
Cedar Waxwing
Blue-winged Warbler
Golden-winged Warbler
Tennessee Warbler
Orange-crowned Warbler
Nashville Warbler
Northern Parula
Yellow Warbler
Chestnut-sided Warbler
Magnolia Warbler
Black-throated Blue Warbler
Yellow-rumped Warbler
Black-throated Green Warbler
Blackburnian Warbler
Pine Warbler
Palm Warbler
Bay-breasted Warbler
Cerulean Warbler
Black-and-white Warbler
American Redstart
Prothonotary Warbler
Worm-eating Warbler
Ovenbird
Northern Waterthrush
Louisiana Waterthrush
Kentucky Warbler
Common Yellowthroat
Hooded Warbler
Wilson's Warbler
Canada Warbler
Summer Tanager
Scarlet Tanager
Eastern Towhee
Chipping Sparrow
Field Sparrow
Vesper Sparrow
Savannah Sparrow
Grasshopper Sparrow
Song Sparrow
Lincoln's Sparrow
Swamp Sparrow
White-throated Sparrow
White-crowned Sparrow
Dark-eyed Junco
Northern Cardinal
Rose-breasted Grosbeak
Indigo Bunting
Bobolink
Red-winged Blackbird
Eastern Meadowlark
Western Meadowlark*
Common Grackle
Brown-headed Cowbird
Orchard Oriole
Baltimore Oriole
House Finch
Pine Siskin
American Goldfinch
House Sparrow

Total: 178
New species: 1

High Park - January 12, 2010

My camera is on the fritz. Considering its price, however, and being my last purchase from Wal-Mart before I boycotted that chain 3 years ago, I have to admit, it's been a faithful little piece of technology. It now lays useless and collecting dust somewhere behind my computer but it served its purpose.

My cellphone camera can hardly be considered a camera at all, its pictures reminding us of the year 1814 when Joseph Nicephore Niepce took the first ever photographic image, requiring 8 hours of light exposure. The photo later faded.

Therefore, I do not have a picture from today's journey through High Park, a shame since the ducks along the creek north of Grenadier Pond were close enough to get decent shots, regardless of zoom lenses. So instead, here are a few silly photos of a Tasneem and I enjoying lunch in the park in a much more comfortable time of year...a time of year I am currently yearning for what with the lack of suitable winter attire. If you have seen me in the last few months, you'll also notice a shocking absence of long hair in these photos!







Today was simply a beautiful day for a walk. The wind lowered the temperature a few too many degrees but once in the comfort of the trees-as-wind-barriers, I was able to enjoy the quiet, lonely moments when a chickadee feeds a few feet away from your head, a cardinal makes its aggressive-sounding call notes from a nearby bush, a distant drum of a tree trunk indicates a Downy Woodpecker, and a Red-breasted Nuthatch descends a branch high above. The highlight was the aforementioned creek full of marsh ducks, though.

Being one of the few areas of open water in the park, the creek attracts a number of Mallards, both wild-types and freak-shows, strangely bred birds doubled in size, with off-colours, and deep bellies. There are 3 birds, in fact, that I recognized from last year in the park, all year residents that have become familiar enough to me that I search them out whenever I visit.

However, my target bird was a single Northern Pintail drake, which I eventually found after a thorough search from various vantage points. For most of my visit, he had his head tucked into his mantle but on the occasion that a leash-restrained dog barked or a pair of gorgeous horses clomped by carrying mounted police, he would become alert and provide great views. The Pintail was joined by a Wood Duck drake, the only two species apart from Mallard.

I'm now in the warmth of my apartment dealing with canceled credit card matters and furrowing my brows over overcharged internet access but on my next day off, I'm hoping to get down to the waterfront. I unfortunately had to miss the Waterfowl Inventory this year so I want to make up for it with a nice, long walk along Lake Ontario (probably in the Humber Bay East/West area).

In other news, my ordered book arrived in the mail last week! Where to Birdwatch in Scotland by Mike Madders. It looks great so far, with detailed descriptions of specific areas to bird as well as a calendar of dates marking the best times to see specific species. I have some time before my trip, which isn't until the end of August, but I want to be prepared once I'm there. Princeton Guides is supposed to be coming out with a new edition of their guide to the birds of Europe so I plan to buy that one as well once it comes out.

Another post without a day list...I'm not liking this trend.

An hour ago, as I sat in front of my parents' computer listening to George Michael, reactivating my Twitter account, and greedily jamming handfuls of Slowpokes down my gullet, I decided that maybe it was a good time to actually take advantage of the rare occurrence of a working rural Ontario internet connection and post something on Cerulean Sky.

It's December 28th and we're nearing the end of the year, so I'm going to provide you with some goals I have for the new year. These are by no means concrete and I might still add a few (there are still 3 days left in 2009 remember).

Goal # 1: Be prepared for my Scotland trip. Yessss I'm going to Scotland in September!! My dad's doing a duathlon there so we're taking a 2-week trip to Scotland followed by a few days in England. As much as I hated Russel Brand's biography, My Booky Wook, he did teach me something very important he learned while he was in therapy for drug addiction. If you add "To my shame" before any admission or embarrassing statement, you can get away with it sans judgment. Let's try it, la? To my shame, I am 24 years old and have never left North America. There, it doesn't sound as bad when you've already shamed yourself, does it?
How will I achieve Goal #1? Well, I just ordered Where to Watch Birds in Scotland, a guide that was published in 2002 that includes details of where specific species can be found, the abundance/reliability of each species, and very importantly, a calendar that shows when each species is present by season. Let's hope September is a decent month for variety (if I have another Florida Panhandle-during-the-off-season experience in Scotland, I will not be a happy traveler). I'll give this book a good perusal, plan an itinerary that fits with my parents' idea of the trip, and also buy the Princeton Guide to Birds of Europe when the next edition comes out in February.

Goal # 2: Add 10 species to my life list (in Ontario). At first I thought, let's make it 5 lifers within this province and make it easy...but hell, it might as well be a bit more challenging. Mind you, 10 likely won't even be that difficult for me since I am missing a good chunk of uncommon to common birds of Ontario. A trip to Algonquin during the right time of year, for example, could add at least 5 species to my life list! Throw in a few rarities and a trip to Van Wagner's Beach for Jaegars and 10 lifers will (should) be a breeze.

Goal # 3: Continue to be an active member of the Toronto Ornithological Club and volunteer for or join another natural history group in the GTA. I volunteered for FLAP in Toronto 2 years back, but very briefly and I have heard about a number of other clubs in the area but have never made a larger effort to find out more about these opportunities. I'm keeping this goal wide open.

Goal # 4: BUY CLOTHING THAT'S APPROPRIATE FOR BIRDING! Current status: no winter boots, no gloves, no scarf...I sometimes wonder how I survive through Canadian winters.

Hmm, let's just stop there. Various bigger goals are firing through the synapses of my brain at an alarming rate and most of them aren't realistic. Marianne's thinking big...a big year in the Pelee Birding Circle to be exact (I will help you all I can!) Last year, I made a new years resolution to post to Cerulean Sky at least once a month and you can see where that got me. One very good thing I have going for myself in the new year is that I'm no longer a loner-birder in the Toronto area. I have developed a good network of folks that are as excited as I am to get out birding when time permits that will no doubt keep my lists rising, my knowledge expanding, and my horizons broadening (how's THAT for a terrible last sentence!).

Top 20 Most-wanted North American Birds

A while back, Marianne sent me a list of her top 20 most-wanted North American birds and asked me what my list would be. As per usual, it has taken me light years to respond but I decided it'd be fun to include my list here on Cerulean Sky so that the masses can see how far I've got to go with my N. American list and what some of my favourite birds that I haven't yet seen. I am pretty determined when it comes to certain lists so I have no doubt over my lifetime that I will eventually check off each of these species (unless some go extinct, which is an unfortunate possibility). I might make it a new years resolution for 2010 to take a trip within North America to a location where I can get a laundry list of new species and strengthen my experience (somewhere cheap and possibly Florida for a fourth time but actually at the right time of year). As of now, I have only substantially birded Ontario, the east coast of Canada, and Florida. There's a large expanse of land out there with a great number of birds waiting to be seen.

It was quite fun coming up with the list. I threw on Queen's best album, A Night at the Opera, sat down with my lover, The Sibley Guide to Birds, and reminded myself how lucky we North Americans are with our diversity of bird life. In evolutionary order:

1. Clark's Grebe (I would put down Western Grebe but I still resent that species after last year's epic fail trying to find it near the Leslie Street Spit. I think these two species together make up our best-looking grebe).

2. Blue-footed Booby (I don't know what it is but this species represents a symbol of evolution for me. It must be one of the most familiar of the world's birds and when I think of Darwin, I think of boobies).

3. "Wurdemann's" Heron (I haven't gone far enough south in Florida for this hybrid of morphs but the white splash over the head actually makes it a more attractive version of the Great Blue Heron in my opinion).

4. Roseate Spoonbill (This has always been my number one most-wanted N. American species since I started birding and picked up a cheap Waders of N. America book with the Roseate Spoonbill on the cover. It's such a bizarre bird; a mixture of beauty and homeliness. As you will see with the next on the list, I also think I included it 'cause I just like pink birds!).

5. Greater Flamingo (The flamingo is one of my favourite birds in the entire world. They're beautiful but almost look cartoonish in appearance, their stilt legs and S-curved neck make them seem agonizingly fragile, and I have a thing for tall birds).

6. Steller's Eider (It was hard not including Spectacled Eider in this list for its remoteness and odd look but I do think the Stellar's Eider is just a more beautiful duck).

7. California Condor (It's enormous, majestic, and it's hella rare. 'Nuff said).

8. Ferruginous Hawk Light Morph (Our most attractive bird of prey. The more white a bird has, the more I like them and this is our whitest hawk, discounting albinos, which I would love to see. I'm always jealous when folks see an albino red-tail at the hawk counts).

9. Greater Sage Grouse (Of the game birds, this one is the most fascinating to me and I would love to witness their courtship display).

10. Whooping Crane (Such a tall, attractive bird. Another symbol-bird for me, this time a symbol of conservation).

11. South Polar Skua (I honestly have some kind of obsession with cold grayish birds. American Black Duck and Dark-eyed Junco are other examples. I also think Skuas are just really cool, impressive birds).

12. Rhinoceros Auklet (am I the only one that thinks this bird looks like an elderly wizard?)

13. White-tipped Dove (I think this is N. America's most elegant dove after Eurasian Collared-Dove, my favourite of Family Columbidae

14. Greater Roadrunner (I don't even think this needs explanation).

15. Barn Owl (By far our most beautiful owl. Ghostly, heart-shaped facial disk...I can't wait to finally see this species).

16. White-headed Woodpecker (I am obsessed with this bird for some reason).

17. Florida Scrub-Jay (Unbelievably I didn't pick up this bird on any of my trips to Florida but in my own defense, I was not in the right area).

18. Varied Bunting (I've always seen the Varied Bunting as a Painted Bunting that was splashed with too much paint. The colour pattern of this bird looks completely random to me, a mix of too many colours until you almost get brown).

19. "Cape Sable" Seaside Sparrow (This is our rarest sparrow, la? Next trip to Florida, I'm getting it).

20. Yellow-eyed Junco (My favourite species in the whole wide world, the Dark-eyed Junco, my winter friend, has a counterpart and it's the only other Junco in N. America so I must see it).

Next up, I'll throw down some of my most-wanted WORLD birds!

Phainopepla (from two perspectives)

November 14.

I woke up Saturday morning, the warm square of my bedroom window's light already drifted up to my waist, ensconced in the cozy cocoon of my duvet, emitting a pleas-ed purr (having not been jolted out of an ocean-deep sleep by that dreaded nerve-shattering alarm of my nemesis, the bedside radio). I can hear my husband grinding coffee in the kitchen; the distant, alluring sound muffled by the door. I lay with my eyes closed until the pressure to pee can no longer be ignored. A relieved sigh as I relax the muscles of my bladder and release the flow, while simultaneously, a steaming cup of coffee is being poured downstairs next to toast spread thinly with marmalade. Slippers on, floating slowly through the hallway in a day-off daze, I enter to see my husband turn, his graying hair still tussled from the night before, and a silly-proud smile as he looks down at the breakfast he has prepared, picking up my large mug and stepping toward me. Our eyes meet as I take the coffee from his hands, our fingers lingering for a moment as they interlock on the handle of the cup. I smile, turn away to pick up my plate, receive a playful slap to my behind, and saunter over to the living room's bay window. I pull back the curtains, my lips tighten, my brows furrow, and I shout back to my husband, "WHAT THE FUCK ARE ALL THOSE PEOPLE DOING ON OUR FRONT LAWN??"

November 14.

I woke up Saturday morning to the thundering electric blast of my alarm clock, reaching over and ripping the plug from its socket as my eyes open to a blinding strip of light that has managed to slice through my curtains, my pupils shrinking to pin-points like the T-Rex from Jurassic Park, hissing like a vampire that's just been exposed to the sun (I'm talking Bram Stoker vampires, not the glitter-in-the-sun Twilight ones). I roll myself off my lumpy mattress and sift through floor-laundry to find (semi)clean clothes for the day. That's when the excitement starts to sink in. The blood-racing, heart-pumping, adrenaline of chasing a black-feathered, red-eyed, so-out-of-its-range-it-seems-impossible south-westerner that has arrived in a suburb of Brampton, of all places. I swiftly shower, shove a handful of dry cereal into my face, and rush to the subway, already a couple minutes late for my ride (side note: Thanks again, Greg!). As we neared our suburban destination, we concentrated on getting the side-streets right, passing by quintessential, gardened houses in a quiet, gardened neighbourhood, eventually turning onto the quaint, gardened Addington Crescent. Needless to say, it was somewhat obvious that this was the spot. Vehicles stacked in leaning towers 5-cars high, parked back-to-back on every inch of pavement, binoculars, scopes, and cameras on every neck and in every trembling hand, stampedes of folks frothing at the mouth and clawing at elderly ladies who were between themselves and the crowd of people frantically pointing upward, a truck with a cow-catcher attached to the front pushing through the crowd to get the best look. I calmly exited my friend's car and sped-walked to the excited group of people gathered all over some couple's front lawn...and got my first-ever look at a Phainopepla.

Read at Your Own Risk

Inspired by the latest talk of the TOC, I have decided it is time, after 110 days, to try to restore Cerulean Sky to its former glory (remember those good ol' days when you would set your alarm early so you could eagerly run to your computer to see if Cerulean Sky had any updates before heading off to the grind? Those late nights spent ignoring mouse-clicking ergonomics and pressing the refresh button every half second, inducing carpal tunnel while staring with bloodshot eyes and sipping a double double with trembling hands, desperate to see if Sky's author would perhaps post another biting commentary on the cormorant cull, or describe, in Pulitzer prize-worthy prose, his amazing adventures across acres of forests, wetlands, beach, and brush in search of waders, game, raptors, LBJ's, and everything in between?). You don't remember?

The inspiring talk was by Hamilton birder Brandon Holden, the smarter, more talented and charismatic, better-looking, younger version of myself (jealous? I'm not jealous!). I have enough difficulty stumbling to the front of the room to utter, in monotonous monotone, a mere guest list (usually in front of an audience who cannot contain at least a grin, chortle, or chuckle at my expense), let alone speak, seemingly with no nerves, for an hour about an incredible road trip across Florida with the aplomb of a seasoned expert while displaying brilliant photos from the journey.

All of this led me to look back on my now-14 years of birding to pinpoint where exactly things took a turn...not that things took a serious nosedive, there was just some point along the way where my learning curve reached a peak, leveled, and perhaps dropped an itsy bitsy teeny weeny bit (not a stock market crash thankfully. I won't need any bailout). Time is a factor, duh. I can't just go out birding whenever I want anymore and I certainly don't pore over my field guides like I used to (I do miss those days). But I did come to a realization that one of my greatest problems, probably since the beginning, is a (perhaps unfounded?) terror of a tarnished reputation; the scalding criticism of a hard-nosed veteran, having my name be synonymous with "novice" or "you can't trust his Ontbirds posts", an incorrect identification that ends up in the history books ("He mistook a Glaucous-winged X Herring Gull for a Thayer's Gull? Well I never...I'm not going to say hello the next time I see him." A non-birder might laugh, but it can be a tough world out there. Or at least in my mind it can be. Do I have issues?

With my current role as a no-talent hack, I struggle to sustain at least a minor role in the birding community. A couple of reports here, a few volunteer opportunities there, but there are those few rare (frequent) moments where I nearly despair at the knowledge of those around me. Even the mere mention of an obscure topographic detail that I have not heard of can send me into a tailspin of nerves (should I know this?...oh, I better not ask what they mean or I'll look like an idiot...I'll just nod and smile awkwardly, that should do the trick).

Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm mostly teasing and I'm not a terrible birder. I consider my skills to surpass the average chimp. I know a good number of calls (but could certainly stand to dust off my bird song C.D.'s to be less rusty), I can confidently identify almost everything I see (sometimes it requires a bit of time to do a mental scan through my memory-bank of field marks but eventually I come to a knowledgeable guess), and I take pride in the fact that I know a lot about migration times, ranges, and general abundance/rarity of species. Of course, there are groups that cause more trouble than others. There are gulls that I couldn't identify if my life depended on it, a few sparrows throw me into a momentary confused, blank stare, and fall shorebirds can lead me to *gasp*, open a field guide. But hey, we're supposed to be having fun, right?

I worry too much. I worry that I worry too much. I worry that I worry that I worry too much. However, I think I'm beginning to understand it all now. Worrying is my comfort-zone, my safety blanket. Worrying a lot keeps me from actually calling out a bird's name. Worrying too much prevents me from admitting I just don't know what I'm looking at. Worrying even prevents me from going birding! It's not a good way to learn, worrying. Life gets in the way of birding all the time but I think one of the most helpful things for me to do is also the simplest. It's time to practice the parsimony principle. How do you become a better birdwatcher? You birdwatch! Side note: spell check apparently accepts 'birdwatcher' but 'birdwatch' is not a word? I have done fairly well this year dedicating a chunk of my time to birding (mostly thanks to some wonderful friends who invite me along on their trips), but one bit of basic birding that I'm missing right now is getting out there for a few hours on my own. From my experience, I learn the most when I'm by myself. If you don't know what you're looking at, there's no embarrassment, you just figure it out. You hear a call you don't know? You search out the bird, identify it by sight and by golly, you'll likely know that call the next time! Practice and parsimony. Less worrying.

In conclusion, I just reread this entire post, which may come across as the ramblings of a lunatic, and I question the intent of the arrow that is hovering over "PUBLISH POST". So it has come to this: the first post in 110 days and it's an offbeat admission of my birding insecurities. I'm sorry, my dear fans and followers. I promise more normalcy in my next post 111 days from now. Happy birding!

The Currie Tract

Last Friday, as a result of the considerable kindness of a fellow TOC member, Mark Field, I was able to visit a new birding destination in the GTA (Milton to be exact). As always, I get so swept up in the busyness of this city that when I finally get a day to go birding, it's always a great experience (relaxing, rewarding, refreshing...*insert other 'r' words that apply*).

The Currie Tract requires a vehicle to get to so I was at the mercy of my host who had visited the area a few times in the last couple months in hopes of finding the Prairie Warbler that has been reported there frequently this spring/summer. We didn't find it of course, but we did get some other goodies along the way.

Before I get to that though, I'll describe the park a bit first. From what I could gather, the area is connected to a conservation area and consists of a primarily deciduous forest next to a prairie-like, grassy habitat that stretches along for quite some distance underneath enormous hydro poles. The hydro poles constantly emit a humming energy that somewhat alarmed me at first but Mark assured me that you get used to it. Eventually I forgot the pressure in my ears but every once in a while I would think about it again or look up and feel like I was being microwaved.

It was all worth it though as we ended up getting some really good sightings in. The highlights included a singing Mourning Warbler, missed by me in spring, that was sickeningly cooperative. As we were listening to it sing, I suddenly remarked that there were two birds! To our disappointment, it ended up being a Tilly-hat toting dude with a tape player, relentlessly playing the song of the Mourning Warbler and getting it to close in on the trail.

Next up was a singing Blue-winged Warbler even though I was now wary of any songs as they could have just been a machine instead of the real thing. However, we eventually spotted the bird; another extremely cooperative fellow that showed off for quite some time.

I'm happy to have discovered the area and hope to get back there again sometime (next time, mosquito repellent, sunscreen, and food are musts).

Day List (counting the moment we started to drive to the moment I was dropped off):

Canada Goose
Turkey Vulture
Northern Harrier
Red-tailed Hawk
Killdeer
Ring-billed Gull
Herring Gull
Rock Pigeon
Mourning Dove
Black-billed Cuckoo (seen and heard)
Ruby-throated Hummingbird
Downy Woodpecker
Eastern Wood-Pewee
Eastern Kingbird
Red-eyed Vireo
Blue Jay
American Crow
Northern Rough-winged Swallow
Cliff Swallow
Barn Swallow
Red-breasted Nuthatch
White-breasted Nuthatch
Wood Thrush
Veery
American Robin
Gray Catbird
European Starling
Cedar Waxwing
Blue-winged Warbler
Chestnut-sided Warbler
American Redstart
Ovenbird
Mourning Warbler
Common Yellowthroat
Eastern Towhee
Field Sparrow
Song Sparrow
Savannah Sparrow
Northern Cardinal
Rose-breasted Grosbeak
Indigo Bunting
Red-winged Blackbird
Common Grackle
Brown-headed Cowbird
Baltimore Oriole
American Goldfinch
House Sparrow

Total Species: 47

And I start to complain that there's no rain

I started this Saturday evening desperately attempting to make plans, any plans, but eventually just gave up and decided to go for an evening walk through High Park. It was quite beautiful really; a light mist falling, the vegetation glistening with water droplets, and the leaves of trees drooping forlornly with the heaviness of moisture. Overhead, Chimney Swifts chattered away as silhouettes of small birds flew by (almost certainly Chickadees).

Later, as the evening turned to night, I started to hear Common Nighthawks 'meep'ing above me, out of sight from my umbrella. I was also lucky enough to see a passing skunk near the main road, ambling along and (thankfully) minding its own business. It's so darn peaceful in there on nights like this.

As I was walking, I started to think about missing the Carden Alvar trip through the TOC and how disappointing it is that I wasn't able to attend. Everyone who went gushed about how wonderful the area is and the reports coming from there are excellent (especially the latest post on Ontbirds by Bob Cumming, who looks to have had a spectacular day there despite the rain). It's a trip that I must, must, must, must take.

The other outing I'm hopefully going on, particularly now that I have Saturdays off, is the Toronto Butterfly Count. To this day, I have never been on a single butterfly count in any area and I really want to learn how the Toronto area differs both in species and abundance from the Pelee Circle.