2013 Christmas Bird Count - Gabriola Island Results

by Sharon McInnes

In 1,199 communities all over the Americas, for one day between Dec 14 and January 5, hordes of birders got up at dawn to count birds. This year’s count, which took place on Dec 29 on Gabriola Island, was the 114^th, making the Christmas Bird Count (CBC) the longest-running Citizen Science project and wildlife census in the world.  In total, 28,644,830 individual birds were counted. On Gabriola, where the count includes only the north half of the island, birders counted 74 species and 3326 individual birds. These numbers don’t reflect the actual number of species or birds on the island (even on the north end), just those spotted by a counter.   

Dark-eyed juncos sittin' in a tree
Count them, count them, how many do you see?

This year’s numbers were significantly lower than last years (3326 compared to 4786), in part because of last year’s Pine Siskin irruption of 1239 birds. (This year only 6 siskins showed up.)  

Pine Siskin numbers plummetted this year

Differences in totals also result from transient flocks of waterbirds. For example, this year there were half the number of Mallards (114 compared to 239). But last year, counters tallied up 175 American Widgeons compared to a whopping 459 this year, and many more cormorants, both Double-crested and Pelagic. (2012: 35 DC cormorants; 2013: 81. 2012: 9 Pelagic; 2013: 16.) 

Many mallards - these ones at Reifel Bird Sanctuary in Delta BC

Also, this year 10 fewer adult bald eagles were counted (down from 22 to 12) and 14 fewer feral turkeys, which are not official count birds but which we can’t seem to resist counting anyway.  

Yes, we know they don't "count". But we count them anyway!

One of the frustrations of any one-day count is that birds don’t always cooperate.  For example, no Red Crossbills showed up in the right locations at the right times to be counted this year. And last year 23 Trumpeter Swans were seen, but this year none. (On the other hand, I counted 14 at Coats March on January 13.) And one islander saw a Northern Goshawk a few days before the count, but on Count Day, no such luck.

In the passerine world, this year there were at least 50% more Northwestern Crows (from 19 to 32), American Robins (from 34 to 99), Golden-crowned Sparrows (from 29 to 47), and Varied Thrushes (25 to 88). 

One cold Varied Thrush, doing his best to keep warm

And the number of Anna’s hummingbirds went up slightly, from 26 to 28.

Anna's hummingbird. From 26 to 28 this year.
Photo by Alan Vernon, CC license. 

On the other hand, there were 50% fewer Hairy Woodpeckers (from 6 to 2), Pileated Woodpeckers (from 14 to 9), Common Ravens (from 101 to 56), Chestnut-backed Chickadees (from 297 to 111), Fox Sparrows (from 17 to 10), Red-breasted Nuthatches (from 78 to 38), Bewick’s Wrens (from 16 to 1), Dark-eyed Juncos (from 303 to 120), Bushtits (from 21 to 0), Red-Winged Blackbirds (from 25 to 1), House Finches (from 109 to 11), Purple Finches (from 7 to 1), Red Crossbills (from 17 to 0), and House Sparrows (from 4 to 0).  

Fox sparrow on a snowy limb

Male House Finch stopping for a drink at one of our bird baths

One of the more exciting finds this year were 3 Marsh Wrens, 2 of which were spotted (after a lot of cloak and daggery and wet feet) at Coats Marsh.  

Marsh Wren.
Many thanks to Don Wigle for gorgeous photo. 

Other unusual birds (possibly considered rare) spotted this year included Mourning Doves on El Verano and a White-throated Sparrow.  

Mourning Doves at Sapsucker Woods in Ithaca New York

So, what’s the point of all this? Why drag oneself out of bed at dawn to venture out in the cold of winter to count birds? According to the folks at Audobon, organizers of the  Christmas Bird Count, the information gleaned from the annual counts is used, in combination from data from other Citizen Science projects, to help scientists assess the health of bird populations and to guide conservation action. Over the years, they’ve learned, for example, that “Birds are not Climate Skeptics, having spoken with their wings.” (Audobon website). They’ve learned which bird populations are in decline (e.g. Rufous Hummingbird, Northern Pintail, Horned Lark, Boreal Chickadee, Common Tern, Evening Grosbeak, Sage-grouse) and which have come back from the brink, thanks to Endangered Species legislation (e.g. Bald Eagle, Peregrine Falcon) and how far and how quickly West Nile virus spread. So, really, maybe it is worth the early morning traipse through the woods in the middle of winter. Thankfully, it is for the tens of thousands of people who participate in the annual Christmas Bird Count.     

This article was first published (without all the photos) in
The Flying Shingle on February 10 2014. 

All photos not otherwise credited are by Sharon McInnes.
Please contact using comment function below for permission to use.

Can You Tell an Anna's from a Rufous?

by Sharon McInnes

We have a pair of Anna’s hummingbirds in the yard this winter. If you, too, have hummers right now, here on Gabriola Island, they’re also Anna’s, the beauties that Cornell’s All About Birds site describes as “more like flying jewelry than birds”. 

Male Anna's. Photo by Alan Vernon.
CC license. 

Anna’s have been over-wintering in BC only for the past twenty years or so. Before that they lived exclusively in California and the Baja. But starting in the 1930’s, they began expanding their range northward, probably as a result of more and more backyard feeders as well as the growing popularity of exotic trees, such as eucalyptus, that provided both nectar and nest sites. Some birders worry that feeding Anna’s will interfere with migration. Here’s what the Rocky Point Bird Observatory scientists say on the subject: 

“Do not worry! Feeders will not stop a bird migrating, a process that is triggered by the bird's internal clock and levels of sunshine. Anna's are with us year round and their presence at feeders has just become more obvious because their numbers are increasing locally.” (http://rpbo.org/hummingbirds.php)

In the spring and summer, we have both Anna’s (Calypte anna) and Rufous hummingbirds (Selasphorus rufus) on Gabriola. You can tell them apart by their colouring. The sure-fire give-away is that the Anna’s has no rufous (orangey-brown) plumage anywhere, and has little white spots around the eyes. Once you know you’re looking at an Anna’s, you can readily distinguish male from female: the male’s red gorget, or throat patch, extends right over his head, making him a sparkling redhead when the sun shines on his iridescent hood. Striking emerald green plumage covers his back and bleeds onto his sides and white belly. The female, not as showy, is mostly emerald green and grey in colour with a small iridescent red gorget on the throat.

Male Rufous hummers - note the bright red iridescent gorget
and the rufous (brownish) plumage

The female Rufous hummer has a little rufous colouring
on its sides but no shining red throat patch

The female Anna's has no rufous colouring anywhere.  

Does size matter?
It does if you're a hummingbird facing down a House Finch! 

In the spring, the male Anna’s performs a wild and wonderful courtship display.  From as high as forty metres, he does a nearly vertical dive downward, all the while eyeing the female. (On sunny days, he orients his body to take advantage of the sun reflecting on his iridescent throat and crown.) As he comes to a stop, he emits a short high-pitched explosive squeak (more on this later) then “chases” her (she has, by now, indicated her interest, somehow) while she leads him to her nest site. (Wiley little thing.) The female then perches and settles in to watch the show while the male does his “shuttle display”, swinging back and forth about half a metre above her, singing like crazy. All this lasts only about twelve seconds, does the trick, apparently. 

More now about that high-pitched squeak: until 2008 the source of this sound was a mystery. Then student researchers at the University of California used ultra-high-speed video cameras to film Anna’s in action, and discovered the squeak was made not by the hummer’s throat but by his tail feathers. (More here). In cold weather, though, all that matters to a hummer is staying alive. 

This Rufous hummer got caught
in a surprise snowfall one spring

Not all do, of course.  But if you have a feeder up, there are things you can do to help. Most importantly, keep the nectar from freezing. (What’s more heartbreaking than seeing an Anna’s sitting on the perch of a feeder with frozen nectar inside?) Some people (me included) have two or three feeders they rotate as needed, one in the house, staying warm, one outside, getting cold. When the outside feeder gets very cold (or freezes overnight) bring it in and replace it with the other one. Some people keep their feeders from freezing by placing homemade warmers, often concocted from light bulbs, just under the feeder. (I’d like to use my birdbath heater to keep the nectar from freezing but haven’t figured out how to do that yet.) Others wrap feeders in pipe insulation or beer mug insulators or even woolen socks. Whatever you do to keep the nectar from freezing, be sure to place your feeders a good distance apart so that the hummer has to fly (thereby creating body heat) to get to them. 

A version of this article was first published in The Flying Shingle on January 13 2014. 

Birds of Puerto Vallarta

by Sharon McInnes

When the last of the Rufous Hummingbirds headed back to Mexico in September, I missed them. 

Filling up before starting the long trek back to Mexico

So in November, when friends offered us two weeks in their eleventh floor condo overlooking Banderas Bay, the largest bay in the Mexican Pacific and habitat for approximately three hundred bird species, we said, of course, yes! 

Our flight path and circumstances were a little different from the hummers that left months before us. We flew WestJet, for example. During the five-hour flight food and beverage were supplied by friendly (and often funny) attendants with big smiles. The hummers didn’t have quite so cushy. They made the three thousand kilometre trip from Gabriola to Mexico on their own volition, flapping those tiny wings over fifty times per second, through all kinds of wind and weather. As far as I could tell, all the WestJet passengers made it to Mexico well-fed and happy; sadly, only fifteen percent of the hummingbirds complete their migratory journey each year. The others die of starvation or exposure or by flying into communication towers. Some are nabbed by predators or trapped for the caged-bird trade. It’s not an easy life, being a migratory bird. 

Once ensconced in our delightfully warm home-away-from-home, I settled in to watch birds from the balcony. Some were species or sub-species of birds that visit BC during the spring and summer, including Snowy-bellied Martins (Progne dominicensis). Every morning I watched dozens of these graceful birds swooping the sky, greedily grabbing flying insects that might otherwise consider my bare arms breakfast. (Go Martins!) These martins are similar to the Purple Martins that live on Gabriola but have a broad white band along the breast and under their tail coverts. 

Purple Martins. Photo by Don Wigle. 

According to my Peterson field guide, Mexican Birds, it’s possible that Snowy-bellied Martins are actually a race of Purple Martin, kissin’ cousins, so to speak. 

One morning I spotted a graceful Great White Ibis fishing in the shallow waters of the deserted beach next door. I didn't get a good photo but here's one of an Ibis by a real photographer! 

White Ibis. Photo by Terry Foote. (CC license.)

And every day, at all hours, long-winged, fork-tailed Magnificent Frigatebirds (Fregata magnificens) soared over the bay.  

Female Magnificent Frigatebird by Tom Friedel. (CC license.)

Male Magnificent Frigatebird with throat pouch inflated in breeding season
(Public domain photo.)

One afternoon a small flock of green and yellow parakeets, possibly Guacamayas (aka Military Macaws) flew by. I waved, but didn't get a photo. Then there were the huge ancient-looking Brown Pelicans! They flew past regularly, sometimes almost skimming the balcony rail, usually in synchronized squadrons of three or more.  (Once I counted twenty-four flying in formation, reminding me of Canada Geese.) When feeling a little nippy, they’d plunge-dive straight down to the sea, stunning small fish that they’d then scoop into their throat pouches.  These remarkable birds (Pelecanus occidentalis) were once on the brink of extinction due to pesticide pollution but have since recovered nicely.

Brown Pelican. (Public domain photo.)

Although I resist having a “favourite” Mexican bird, I have to admit I adore the Great-tailed Grackle. This omnipresent, very social blackbird lives year round in much of the southern States and all through Central America. Like our crows, it’s considered a pest by farmers who grow grains and citrus fruits, especially when it shows up in a flock of tens of thousands! But to me, lolling in the Mexican sun, the Great-tailed Grackle (Quiscalus mexicanus) is fascinating.

Great-tailed Grackle in PV. Photo by Sharon McInnes

I loved waking to what sounded like a wild bird party on top of the palapa roof of the restaurant, as the grackles chattered away. The Cornell Lab describes their myriad of songs and calls as “an impressive array of sounds, ranging from sweet, tinkling notes to what one biologist described as ‘calls so loud they were best heard at a distance.’ Other descriptions include ‘rusty gate hinge’ and ‘machinery badly in need of lubrication.’ The male’s territorial song includes a sound like crackling brush, a rapid-fire ki ki ki repeated 1–12 times, mechanical rattling notes, and a shrieking, high-pitched whistle.” I concur. It’s enough to wake you from a sound sleep, even above the roar of the surf. To hear some of their songs and calls go to: http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/great-tailed_grackle/sounds  

If you happen to be considering sneaking away to the sun this winter, (or if you're already there, as it seems half of Gabriola is right now) and you love birds, consider taking in The Vallarta Bird Festival from March 6-9, 2014. http://www.vallartabirdfestival.org/  I’ve done a little bird-watching in the Sierra Madre Mountains and highly recommend it. But one suggestion: pack super-duper mosquito spray!

This article (without the photos and slightly modified) was first published in
The Flying Shingle on December 16 2013. 

Can You Hear Me NOW?

by Sharon McInnes

I know the Spotted Towhee isn’t actually talking to me. Yet I can’t help but talk back. Maybe it’s a character flaw. Possibly. 

Same with the Steller’s Jays who wait for peanuts every morning, quite patiently, on the back deck. “Good morning,” I say, as if this regular visitor is there to greet me, and not my peanuts. Sometimes he does make a little noise, one that seems rather un-jay like, and I wonder.

Some birds do ‘talk’, of course, if talk equals mimic. Ravens, for example, can learn to mimic the human voice. And mockingbirds, starlings, crows, Northern shrikes, gray catbirds, and magpies, mimic other birds as well as sounds in their environment. Recently, the blackbirds of Somerset England have stirred up a lot of attention by incorporating all kinds of new sounds into their repertoire – sounds like ringing cell phones that no one ever answers (how irritating is that?), and ambulance sirens, and car alarms. Good grief. Are these just blackbirds with a wicked sense of humour? Or are they bored, wanting a little variety in their staid British lives? Or maybe they just enjoy learning! Who knows? The more I learn about wild birds, the less certain I am about any of the many theories that abound. 

Whatever their motivation, though, the Somerset blackbirds may, perhaps inadvertently, be setting themselves up as desirable mates, avian Lotharios, since female blackbirds prefer males with experience. And in the world of blackbirds (and many other birds) song variety is related to maturity: the more sounds a blackbird has in his repertoire, the more attractive he is as a mate.  (I’ve heard of lots of less sane ways to pick a mate!)

Other urban birds are responding to their environments in unique ways. According to the work of Hans Slabbekoom  of the Netherlands, Little Greenbuls, Great Tits, and European Blackbirds are changing the sound frequency of their calls in order to be heard above the din of the city. And scientists at the University of Sheffield have discovered that, after millennia of singing at daybreak and onwards, some European Robins living in big cities have begun to sing only at night! It’s just too hard to make themselves heard during the day when they have to sing loud enough to be heard above the noises of vehicles and people. 

European Robin.
Photo by Pierre Selim. CC license. 

And in Berlin, nightingales now sing louder on weekday mornings than on weekend mornings, when the streets are quieter. (Study by Brumm of the Berlin Free University – now there’s a concept!)

But it’s not just the songs of birds that are being affected by us humans, it’s also their stress levels. Well-meaning birders who use smartphone apps in the field may be doing the very birds they love a serious disservice. Birders who use apps (such as Audobon Birds and iBird Pro) in order to identify an unfamiliar bird song and/or to lure a bird out into the open for a photo shoot may be creating undue stress for the bird whose call they are playing, and maybe for other birds listening in, especially in the spring. Graham Madge of the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds explains: “… when birds hear their song played over and over again, they are likely to think it’s a rival male encroaching on their territory and fly out to see what’s going on. While that might make for a great photo, it also means that the nest is unprotected and vulnerable and the bird is stressed.” Indeed, especially during nesting season, when the chores never end (building the nest, brooding and feeding the babies, eating and preening, keeping the nest clean, watching for predators, and on and on) the last thing a wild bird needs is the stress of thinking some other bird is after its territory!  

But back to the towhees and jays in my backyard that I “talk” to. Now I’m wondering if I’m stressing them out when I mimic their songs, or even when I address them in my human language? I sure hope not, because, honestly, I doubt I can stop myself.

This article first appeared (without these pics and with a few small changes)
in The Flying Shingle newspaper on November 4 2013

Our Thanksgiving Barred Owl

by Sharon McInnes

No, we didn't have him for dinner! We just enjoyed his presence as he sat on the eave of the garage in the late afternoon, looking around. For mice, presumably.

Barred Owl watching me.
Photo by Sharon McInnes. 

Barred Owl ignoring me, looking for mice.
Photo by Sharon McInnes

I'm delighted that he hung around long enough for me to sneak outdoors (in the middle of making turkey dinner) and snap his photo! What a lovely Thanksgiving surprise.

Those Spunky UCal Juncos

by Sharon McInnes

Many birders consider juncos to be a little less than exciting, LBJs, ho-hum. It's like that when there are 630 million of anything hanging around. 

Junco hyemalis, one of the most abundant birds on the continent,
are considered  'rock star study organisms' by scientists

Dark-eyed Juncos at the University of California demonstrated
rapid evolution driven by urbanisation.
(Lovely photo by Garry Davey)

Over 30 years, even the DNA of the juncos that stayed
on the U Cal campus changed!

This is a Gabriola Island junco. (Not the technical name.)
The now-famous U Cal juncos have less white tails and less black heads.  

It's an amazing story! Read all about it here: http://www.flyingshingle.com/

Then check out “The Ordinary Extraordinary Junco”, a fascinating 88-minute video series produced by biologists and filmmakers from Indiana University.
Here's the trailer: www.youtube.com/watch?v=3kvJTMvaKUg 

The series is free - like so many good things in life. 

ENJOY!

Crows in the City

This short video from today's Tyee .... http://thetyee.ca/Video/2013/09/10/Crow-Road/?utm_source=daily&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=110913 is about how and why crows adapt so well to life in the city. Definitely worth watching!