Two in the Bush

Dan Schuurman speaks to birds. It’s winter 2023 and we are in Alton looking forward to a productive day of birding as we join the Headwaters Nature Christmas Bird Count. At dawn’s first light, Dan whistles a near-perfect rendition of a cardinal’s signature call. And from the edge of the woods, a real cardinal responds. We add “cardinal” to our count list. 

A national heritage inventory specialist with Credit Valley Conservation, Dan mimics not only cardinals but also owls and warblers. However, his warbler fluency won’t be tested on this December count day; in winter “our” warblers are flitting around in tropical hardwoods.

Nonetheless, lots of birds stay with us throughout the year. And believe it or not, other birds perceive Headwaters as their winter refuge after flying south from the Arctic and the boreal forest.

As the day brightens, we start walking the old railbed south of Queen Street, but we don’t get far. Chirps, tweets and coos signal that birds are all around us. The woodland verges and adjacent meadows are alive with crows, juncos, goldfinches, blue jays and tree sparrows.

Dan hears the thin, high-pitched calls of golden-crowned kinglets and we find four of these tiny waifs foraging in a hedgerow – low enough for us to look down and marvel at their brilliant yellow caps. Then a well-stocked bird feeder in a Queen Street backyard beckons us. Rival bands of chickadees contest the bounty, trading avian insults with their characteristic chickadee-dee-dee calls. Their fellow travellers, nuthatches and downy woodpeckers, flit back and forth to the feeder, ignoring the dispute.

As we stare at the feeder, Dan mentions that walking around with binoculars near bird feeders and people’s houses can be awkward. “Especially in the early morning, and especially if there’s a bedroom window in the line of sight!” I add. But folks who feed birds are usually quick to intuit our intentions. In this case, a woman steps out her back door and we swap a few bird stories. All good.

Hairy woodpeckers arrive to breakfast at the feeder. Their plumage resembles that of downy woodpeckers, but they are bigger and more robust. Birders look at their beaks to separate the two. Downy bills are small and delicate; hairy beaks are large and chisel-like.

A pair of red-bellied woodpeckers clings to the trunk of a tall poplar and drops down periodically to feed on sunflower seeds. Twenty or so years ago, red bellies on the Headwaters count would jolt even reserved birders into frenzied excitement. Now, to quote B.B. King, the thrill is gone … or at least diminished. Birders still enjoy red bellies, but they are no longer rare. Once confined largely to the Carolinian zone in Ontario, they’re now well-established in Headwaters.

I train my binoculars on the silhouettes of three medium-sized songbirds perched in a tree in the front yard of the feeder house. They don’t fit neatly into my mind’s Rolodex of expected winter birds. I hesitate to offer an ID. Dan is an expert birder and I’ll feel sheepish if I offer an incorrect guess. But I’m being silly. “I think they’re cowbirds,” I announce. Dan peers through his binoculars and nods confirmation. Good count birds! In the fall these nest parasites generally join songbirds’ mass southward exodus. Most are long gone by Christmas.

Headwaters Nature (formerly the Upper Credit Naturalist Club) has conducted Christmas bird counts since 1987. Their “count circle” includes much of Caledon and parts of Erin, Orangeville and Mono. Last year 35 participants were divided into 13 teams to search their section of the circle. Nine people chose to stay home and tally visitors to their feeders. Headwaters Nature data guru Russ McGillivray reports that the mobile teams and the feeder watchers counted 5,304 birds of 50 species.

The Headwaters count is one of 2,000-odd North American counts that take place from December 14 to January 5 every year. The first count, promoted by Frank Chapman of what would become the National Audubon Society in the United States, took place on Christmas Day in 1900 as an alternative to a malign tradition that held sway in the 19th century: spending Christmas shooting as many birds as possible.

That count took place in 25 locations across North America, with most in the northeastern United States. Twenty-seven people took part, meaning that most counts were solo efforts. There were two Canadian counts, one in New Brunswick and another in Toronto, where – wait for it – a grand total of four species was tallied!

But from humble beginnings, the Christmas bird count eventually grew into the grand citizen science vehicle it is today. Data from counts in communities across Canada are submitted to Birds Canada and the National Audubon Society in the United States to provide a snapshot of bird populations.

Ron Jasiuk of Headwaters Nature has co-ordinated the count for his club over the last nine years. Standardized count circles measure 24 kilometres in diameter, and the location is the prerogative of the organizing club or group. Ron explains that the Headwaters count circle was selected to encompass areas offering rich bird habitats.

Like other longtime Christmas count participants, Ron returns year after year for the joy of the search. He recognizes that there is scientific benefit in conducting the counts, especially in discerning long-term trends like the expansion of red-bellied woodpeckers into these hills. But like me, he believes no definitive scientific conclusions can be drawn from the counts. Too many variables, such as the weather and the effort and expertise of the birders, change from year to year. Ron, however, sees other reasons to embrace the count. “The great merit of the count is connecting people to the landscape, to nature, and to each other,” he says.

Ron loves the community-building that occurs at day’s end, when tired but excited participants gather to share their finds. “People sometimes don’t know each other, but they arrive energized by a shared project,” he observes. “They swap stories and sightings. I love the buzz!”

And he smiles when younger people get involved. Many participants, including Ron and me, are rather long in the tooth. He talks glowingly about a young University of Guelph student who participated with her boyfriend. “She had a great time,” he recalls. “As a retired high school teacher, I was delighted. One of my greatest satisfactions as a teacher was stoking the curiosity of my students. I get the same rush from encouraging new birders.”

Ron and I agree that a lack of birding expertise shouldn’t hinder participation in the count. But for those who choose to participate, Ron does recommend doing a little homework – he’s a former teacher, after all – to become at least somewhat acquainted with the birds that might be encountered in winter. The departure of many species in the fall reduces the prospective count birds to a manageable number. And now, free apps like Merlin, from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, are available to help identify birds.

Ron also promotes feeder watching as an alternative for folks who would rather stay close to home on count day. The task is no more demanding than sitting by a window, coffee in hand, and tallying feeder visitors. Repeat four or five times over the course of the day and the job is done.

If you do choose to participate, don’t take your task too seriously. Have fun. Know that even experts make mistakes. Ron tells a story from an Algonquin Park count he took part in years ago. A team consisting of four eminent Ontario birders heard a high-pitched call they couldn’t identify. It seemed to be coming from the vicinity of an old cabin. The expert birders scrutinized the trees and bushes around the cabin. Puzzled looks were quietly exchanged, tentative IDs proffered, but the bird eluded them. Then one of the birders opened the cabin door – and found a smoke detector beeping.

Dan and I finish count day at Dragonfly Park in Orangeville. There, in the open waters of the Credit River, we find ducks – mallards, black ducks and common mergansers. Then a pair of belted kingfishers rattles by, careening low over the stream. A great find to cap another enjoyable Christmas bird count. Kingfishers are never guaranteed in winter, but where there’s open water there’s a chance. Their cold weather residency always surprises me. These robust, assertive birds make their living by plunging headfirst into water to catch fish with their beaks, a manoeuvre that demands precision targeting. Difficult, I think, at any time of year, but in icy winter waters? Miraculous!

Winter kingfishers and their hardy confrères evoke wonder and this is one reason birders enjoy the Christmas counts. The thrill of discovery is another. And of course, birds are beautiful and fun to watch. 

Christmas turkey with all the trimmings is a treat. But so is a day seeking the company of the wild birds that grace these hills during the holiday season.

Here are vignettes describing a few of the 50 species (5,304 birds in all) counted during the 2023 Headwaters Nature Christmas Bird Count event.

More than seven tonnes of birds 

CANADA GOOSE: 1,217

The 1,217 Canada geese far outstripped the tally for any other species. A single Canada goose can weigh as much as 9 kilograms. Assigning an average of about 6 kilograms per goose suggests the aggregate weight of these birds was more than 7 tonnes. Though impossible to prove, this weight of Canada geese probably exceeded the combined weight of all the other count birds.

Unsurprisingly, many of the geese were found at Island Lake in Orangeville. They are waterfowl, after all. But many were also observed in cornfields, feeding on errant kernels from the fall harvest. No doubt this bounty of grain is one reason so many geese overwinter in Headwaters.

Though now abundant, sometimes to the point of aggravation, Canada geese were once scarce in Ontario. Jack Miner, an early conservationist, founded a bird sanctuary in Kingsville in 1904, the year of the first Christmas count, expressly to protect and enhance populations of Canada geese. Obviously, he was successful.

However, Miner was also a man of his day. In his era, predators were vermin, vile creatures meriting extermination. Though lauded as one of Canada’s first conservationists, his “sanctuary” was anything but for those he called “cannibal birds”: owls, hawks, crows and grackles that included songbirds in their diets. These he killed with gusto. Only red-tailed and red-shouldered hawks escaped his ire. Miner considered these “too big and clumsy” to worry about.

New kid on the block 

WILD TURKEY: 66

Young birders in Headwaters could be forgiven for thinking wild turkeys have been with us forever. They sometimes walk urban streets, for heaven’s sake, strutting their stuff in front of homes and businesses and snubbing their beaks at approaching cars. But these impressive birds, now a common sight in farm fields and woodlands throughout these hills, are relatively recent arrivals, having been reintroduced at various sites in Ontario between 1984 and 1987. 

Wild turkeys were eliminated from the province in Jack Miner’s era, in the bad old days of unregulated hunting. The reintroduction of the species, with stock from Michigan and Missouri, has been a resounding success. So much so that turkeys likely occupy far more territory in Ontario than they did in pre-colonial days, reaching north to the Sudbury and Sault Ste. Marie areas. Like Canada geese, turkeys often forage in agricultural fields during the winter.

And like Canada geese, turkeys can be controversial. Like us, turkeys are omnivores and, as big birds, they need lots of food. Fruit, seeds, nuts, insects are all on the menu. This can put them at odds with farmers. And some conservationists are concerned that turkeys may be scarfing down large numbers of reptiles and amphibians.

Turkeys occupy a strange place in our local ecology. The fact that they are original, native inhabitants means we should welcome them back, shouldn’t we? But nature is nothing, if not complex. The agriculture that supports them now didn’t dominate the landscape in years past. Turkeys have essentially returned to a place foreign to the one they occupied generations ago. Does this render them invasive? 

The answer may depend on your point of view. Though turkeys raid crops and may threaten snakes and salamanders, they also offer thrills to naturalists and a challenge to hunters. And all that impressive turkey biomass inevitably recycles back into the environment. Large predators and scavengers are benefiting from the turkeys’ return. On a recent bird count, Ron Jasiuk recalls finding a flock of wild turkeys south of Hockley Road at the 5th Line and 5 Sideroad of Mono. He duly reported the sighting at the end-of-day roundup. Another count participant piped up. He had driven by Ron’s turkey site later in the day. Only one turkey remained, but it was dead and in the clutches of a magnificent golden eagle, a very rare winter visitor to these hills. 

Harbinger of spring? 

American Robin: 203

The appearance of robins has long been taken as a sign spring is nigh. Birders, however, know that some robins stay in these hills all winter. These winter red breasts retreat from our towns and cities to sheltered areas where they can sip from the open water of streams and forage for fruit. This diet often places them in the company of another common winter frugivore (fruit eater), the cedar waxwing.

Though some robins have always been present in Headwaters during the winter, their numbers are increasing. The 203 recorded during last year’s Christmas count was the highest ever.

Attributing this to a warming climate would be the default explanation. But though climate change may be one driver of the robins’ increased winter residency, other factors could also be at work. The buckthorn, mentioned earlier, that helps support winter waxwings probably also supports robins. When robins are scarce on a Christmas count, I often find them in a buckthorn patch.

So, robins do overwinter in Headwaters, often in high numbers, but for most of us, the adage that robins presage spring will generally continue to hold. When the days lengthen, robins move back to suburbia and sing their familiar song. Perhaps the old saying should be reworked as “singing robins are harbingers of spring.” When we hear their welcome voices in March or April, we can be assured spring is, indeed, around the corner.

The beloved 

Black-capped Chickadee: 732

Chickadees are among the most endearing of birds and can be trained to land on outstretched palms offering seeds. They are remarkably adaptable, inhabiting the deepest, darkest forests and residential areas alike. Their cheerful calls ring out almost everywhere in Headwaters. Even when the avian pickings are slim during Christmas bird counts, feeders will be aflutter with these friendly creatures. They are insatiably curious, primed to explore new opportunities for food. My late friend, Doris Bourne, who lived in Alton, took a bird feeder with her on camping adventures and loaded it with sunflower seeds. She knew chickadees would soon find the feeder and their chatter would then summon other species.

Winter flocks of chickadees usually travel with downy woodpeckers and our two species of nuthatch: white-breasted and red-breasted. These mixed flocks are believed to offer safety advantages. More birds in winter flocks means more eyes to scan for danger from local bird-hunting raptors such as merlins and sharp-shinned hawks. Chickadees, woodpeckers and nuthatches may also have differing sensory abilities, adding to greater collective wariness. 

The nomad 

Cedar waxwing: 374 

“Dapper” is used so often to describe cedar waxwings that it has become a cliché. But it really is accurate. These are lovely birds, impeccably groomed with tan breasts shading into gold, chic black masks and immaculately coiffed crests. Their red-tipped wings and tails, edged bright yellow, add elegant fashion flourishes.

On Christmas bird counts, it’s either feast or famine with waxwings. They are easily missed because they aren’t randomly dispersed across the countryside in winter. They congeal into flocks that wander the snowy landscape. One team of birders might find a flock containing scores of birds, while birders in an adjacent count area might be shut out.

As frugivores, waxwings scour the landscape for grapes, rose hips and hawthorn berries. They also feast on the black fruit of buckthorn, one of our most hated invasives. I don’t like buckthorn. It has shouldered aside many of our native shrubs, and if I could, I’d wave a wand and make it disappear. But our antipathy toward this invader shouldn’t blind us to the fact that waxwings and other overwintering birds benefit from it. Its sheer abundance means it likely offers more food to birds in winter than any native shrubs or trees. And those birds signal their allegiance to this invader by dispersing it through their droppings. 

Immigrant from the South 

Northern Cardinal: 51

My childhood overlapped with the life of a man who lived in Toronto in the 1920s. We were brought together by our mutual love of nature. He told me of his delight when, as a young man, he spotted a cardinal. So rare were these birds in Toronto at that time that he would report sightings to the Royal Ontario Museum. According to the second Atlas of the Breeding Birds of Ontario, cardinals did not likely breed in Ontario before European settlement. The first Ontario nest was found at Point Pelee in 1901. The first Toronto nest was found in 1922.

Over the past century, cardinals have progressed steadily northward and are now common throughout Southern Ontario. Like chickadees, they are beloved. A brilliant red male cardinal perched in the snow-dusted boughs of an evergreen is a beautiful thing. For those with discriminating taste, the tan-coloured females also offer beauty, albeit of a more subtle sort.

Much of the movement of cardinals northward in eastern North America happened before the climate warmed substantially, indicating that automatically invoking climate change as the cause of bird-range expansion does not always pass muster. The northward movement of cardinals may have more to do with the proliferation of bird feeders in residential yards. Cardinals are very fond of sunflower seeds, which they crack with their impressive bills.

Birders know that if they spot a female cardinal, a male will almost certainly be close. Cardinals stay coupled throughout the year, and solicitous males will often strengthen their bonds by passing seeds to females with their beaks. 

Thinking of bundling up and joining this year’s Christmas bird count? Find out how on Headwaters Nature’s website: onheadwatersnature.ca.