Laurie Snider
Notes from the Nest
I’m not sure if you remember what you were doing just over a month ago, but I’m willing to bet it had something to do with scraping ice off a vehicle or sidewalk.
It may already seem like ages ago but on the weekend of April 15, our area was pummeled by a late, perfectly obnoxious ice storm. Many of us were left cold, inconvenienced and wondering if spring was planning on ever appearing!
What a difference a few weeks make! The temperatures have been pleasant, warm days, cooler nights with a gentler easing between seasons then happens some years. On other occasions, we seemingly jump from winter almost directly into summer, with sky high temperatures and sweaty days. This can turn performing the necessary spring chores into diaphoretic extravaganzas for this post-menopausal woman.
With nary an apology for her mid-April hiccup, Mother Nature has set things onto their proper course again. The foliage in the trees are bursting forth, transforming stark bare branches into lush, green canopies against bright, blue skies. The tulips, narcissus, hyacinths and crocuses are blooming, adding bright pops of colour to my emerging perennial beds. Nearby, the wild flowers are unfolding, performing their yearly ritualistic dances around our yard and gardens. I’m delighted.
Perfectly on cue, baby bunnies, squirrels and chipmunks appear in the trees, beneath the hedge, or chewing on the multitude of dandelions, which make our lawn appear more yellow than green at times. My hearing is tested as I attempt to differentiate between calls of the abundance of birds that have been enjoying daily sojourns to our feeders, cheerfully sharing their sweet songs, as if to say thanks.
This has been a stellar time for birdwatching, as we’ve been beguiled by a diversity of birds, that have chosen to make stopovers at the “Fine Feathered Friends Spa and Retreat” we offer up. All of our favourites — and year-round residents — cardinals, blue jays, nuthatches, chickadees, doves, finches and woodpeckers, regularly flap and fly our way, pleasing us with their merry songs, grace and beauty, in exchange for a little nyjer seed, peanuts, suet or black oil sunflower seeds.
This year, we’ve been treated to a few new travellers who have surprised, charmed and dazzled us. One afternoon during some vigorous raking, I spied a yellow-bellied sapsucker, diligently tapping on the sugar maple in the front yard. These birdies aren’t regular visitors to feeders.
If you’re in the woods and spot rows of holes in the trees, a yellow-belly may be nearby. They drill both round and rectangular holes, licking up sap and any trapped insects with their special brush-tipped tongues. Ruby-throated hummingbirds, bats and porcupines may also feast at these holes. The little hummers are so dependant on them, that they actually time their migrations with the sapsuckers.
One cool and sunny Sunday morning, while rambling around the backyard with the dogs, a little reddish-brown, black and white bird was rustling in some leaves by the swing. I was able to grab the camera and snap a quick photo before it disappeared. Once I looked it up, I discovered eastern towhees are notoriously difficult to spot, as they prefer hiding out among brush, bushes and undergrowth. My sighting was fortuitous as they’re easier to hear than to see
Similarly, it’s the enchanting song of rose-breasted grosbeaks, that alerts me to their presence before an actual sighting. They don’t disappoint. They’ve been making regular appearances for several years now but usually only stay for a few weeks. Their song has been described as, “a robin in an unusually good mood!”
The males with their stunning rosy-red breasts are a sight to behold. The females are a streaky, brown and white and for the first time this year, I spotted one of those. These enthralling little flyers win the award for most romantic, as they’ll sing quietly to each other, as they exchange places on the nest, while incubating their eggs.
An especially, thrilling birding encounter came last week, when I glimpsed a bright blue flash, at the feeder by the hedge. I grabbed my camera and clicked. Unfortunately, all I managed was a blurry photo of what has been referred to as a “blue canary” or “a scrap of sky with wings,” an indigo bunting! Another first in an already banner year.
I sat for an hour, waiting for it to return. It finally did. In my haste and excitement again, I only captured a grainy image.
However, likening my encounter to a fisherman who claims to have caught the “big one” but lacks photographic evidence, I think I’ll keep the photos, just in case. Besides, smudgy or not they’ll serve as treasured keepsakes for what’s been an incredible spring full of birding!