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June Torpor

The unknowable mysteries of the Ancient Murrelet

  Not been getting up to any real birding lately, borrrring.
  I have been re-reading the new Lynx Birds of Japan guide by Otani Chikara on the porch while sipping on sweet sweet Korean instant coffee.
  It’s always provocative to take in a fresh perspective on the birds of the region. They’ve renamed and split/lumped a lot of species, but I'm still a bit out of touch with all the recent taxonomic changes, so it's hard to figure out how much of this is unilateral. For example, the guide has given full species treatment to every White (and Yellow) Wagtail subspecies, and confusingly, fresh new names to boot. While the expanded ID descriptions are helpful to someone like me who still struggles with non-breeding wagtails at times, the excessive splitting/renaming must be confusing to the lists/taxonomies of some birders.
  The illustrations are mostly excellent throughout – notably the superb Acrocephalus warbler plates by Ian Lewington. I noticed the Zappey’s Flycatcher is relatively well described and illustrated…but it isn’t on the same page as Blue-and-white Flycatcher, which would have been nice. Same goes for several other paired/confusion species such as Naumann’s/Dusky Thrush, which by all rights ought to be on same page for ease of comparison. This is a minor quibble.
  One quirk is an almost complete lack of awareness, purposeful or not, on the disposition of birds in Korea. The bibliography mentions no Korean guides, and there are inevitably (literal) question marks on the maps when it comes to long-established Korean bird ranges, or the range won't extend into Korea, even when Korea is included on the range map. Hopefully this is due to lack of research, and not some silly political stance. I did note they avoided labelling Dokdo/Takeshima on the map, which was something at least.
  What else...almost no in-flight illustrations is a con, while detailed accounts of the species of vegetation associated with favoured habitat is a pro.
  Overall the guide is quite stimulating to the Korean birder that slumbers inside me. While reading it I caught myself making lists without really even noticing – stuff like “Potential vagrants to Korea,” and “Species records to double-check.” I stand by my fevered assertion that Ryukyu Robins will be found in the hills of Geomun-do one glorious day...

  On June 14th, I peeked over the top of the Japan guide to observe several adult House Sparrows feeding a begging juvenile several feet away, for 30 minutes. Suddenly, several European Starlings screeched their alarm from overhead, and a small pointed shadow crashed into the bush where the young sparrow was last seen. The Merlin then flew a tight figure eight over the front yard so close I felt the wind from its wingbeats, before vanishing across the street. All was quiet for ten minutes, when a male House Sparrow returned and called urgently for a while in the bush, with no response.
  

  At 8:14am on June 23rd, I watched a Great Egret drift north towards the Westmount Summit.

A summit return

Bay-breasted Warbler Setophaga castanea

Bay-breasted Warbler Setophaga castanea

male Black-throated Blue Warbler Setophaga caerulescens

female Black-throated Blue Warbler Setophaga caerulescens

American Redstart Setophaga ruticilla

Yellow-rumped Warbler Setophaga coronata

Black-throated Green Warbler Setophaga virens

Blue-headed Vireo Vireo solitarius

Hairy Woodpecker Picoides villosus

Trillium trail on the summit

  A year ago, I was waking up at 5am to go spring birding on Korean Islands in the Yellow Sea. These days, some 5am’s see me working the graveyard shift somewhere I worked 20 years ago – just for shits and giggles. That being the case, I haven’t been able to get out for any early morning birding, on top of the whole pandemic thing.

  The sunny weather and zugunruhe finally got under my wings this afternoon. In a daze, I put on my mask and walked up to the Westmount Summit in sweaty, sunny weather, with a high in the 20s.
  After a winding circuit of the summit, I settled for a paltry haul of two warbler species, until a late rally near the entrance path, where I encountered a small but personally long-overdue warbler wave. The birds were seemingly fresh-in – most came in roughly from the south, and were feeding actively in the mid- to low-level of the woods. All were quite unwary.
  Among their numbers were two of my absolute fave wood-warbler – Bay-breasted Warbler. I appreciate how they buck the trend of wearing ‘warbler yellow,’ opting instead for subdued raspberry smears.
  I hadn’t been to the Westmount Summit since August 2017. Hmm, I haven’t been to the cemeteries since December 2019.

  Nothing much else to report.

Westmount Summit, May 20, 2020
Turkey Vulture-6
Merlin-1
Herring Gull-1
Knifebir…er…Chimney Swift-3+
Downy Woodpecker-1
Hairy Woodpecker-2
Eastern Phoebe-1 heard
Great Crested Flycatcher-1-2 heard
Blue-headed Vireo-2
American Crow-2
(Hirundine sp.-1 briefly seen from far off, not a Chimney Swift)
Black-capped Chickadee-4
White-breasted Nuthatch-1
Ruby-crowned Kinglet-2+ heard
Swainson’s Thrush-3
American Robin-3
European Starling-3 over nearby houses
Black-throated Blue Warbler-1 male, 3 females
Black-throated Green Warbler-3
Yellow-rumped Warbler-2
Bay-breasted Warbler-2 males
American Redstart-2 males
Ovenbird-1
(Scarlet Tanager-1 possibly heard in the distance)
Northern Cardinal-1-2 heard
Chipping Sparrow-2 heard
American Goldfinch-4+ overhead
House Finch-1 heard

Return of the Knifebirds

Chimney Swift Chaetura pelagica

  In Korea, the most common member of the Apodidae family is the Pacific Swift, known locally as ‘Kalsae’ – knifebird. Its Montreal counterpart is the Chimney Swift, known in French as ‘Martinet ramoneur’ – chimney sweeper swift. Knifebird sounds way more badass, so that is what I shall refer to them as, forevermore.
  My personal first-of-year Knifebirds were spotted today in NDG chittering high overhead, while I was sipping Maxim Korean instant coffee and reading a book about survival in Greenland. I guess I should have written "they were knifing high overhead."

Bird-a-thon, 2039 AD

https://coffinbell.com/bird-a-thon-2039-ad/

  This story started as my indignant reaction to modern birding tech. With all these bird picture/song ID apps (now even integrated into new Swaro optics…) and info-sharing apps, this is where birding is going. Technology is turning us into useless blank-eyed fleshbags who wander between waypoints, jabbing at buttons. I ended the story off with a boilerplate sci-fi twist. Maybe one day I’ll be able to read something I've written without cringing.

  It’s clear I need to think of new names for characters – when I find a name I like, I use it repeatedly without noticing – I think this is the third time I've used the name 'Mairin.'

  Hope everyone is managing to keep a modicum of sanity on this endless Sunday morning.

(PS Spot the typo!)


(To read my other published birding tales, click on this handy clickety-click and scroll down:
http://snowyowllost.blogspot.ca/search/label/Writing%20stuff-published%20stories)

The Busan Drunk Bird Flu

  
  Observe if you will…a tale about a sinister flu that starts in East Asia, and spreads from animals to humans. I wrote it in…OCTOBER! Neer-neer-neer-neer, neer-neer-neer-neer…(Twilight Zone riff)

https://coffinbell.com/the-busan-drunk-bird-flu/

(To read my other published birding tales, click on this handy clickety-click and scroll down:
http://snowyowllost.blogspot.ca/search/label/Writing%20stuff-published%20stories)

Last NDG birds of March

Cooper’s Hawk Accipiter cooperii

American Robin Turdus migratorius

Woodchuck/Groundhog Marmota monax

  Birds! Here are some I saw today at a quiet spot in NDG. Ten species were spotted in a lazy 45 minutes in lovely sunny weather, my first foray out of doors in quite some time. No woodpeckers, juncos, or nuthatches around, perhaps due to patrols by two noisy Merlins and a determined looking Cooper’s Hawk. No Snowbirds or spectral groundskeepers, either.

  If birds migrate in the spring and there are no birders there to see them…the birds don't care.

Omens

Eastern Screech-Owl Megascops asio
(I didn’t even know the ISO on my camera went as high as 16,000...) 

  Many cultures view owls as bad omens. I don’t. I gravitate to the views of the few traditions that see owls as harbingers of transition – forces that can guide you during difficult times in your life. It’s fair to say that most people on the planet are living through some difficult times in their lives at this point in this anno multum horribilus, 2020.

  Tonight I needed some air, so I went out onto the front porch and sat in a director’s chair with a morale beverage. Fat flakes of snow cloaked the deserted streets, and it was cold enough to chill my legs through jeans. Fifteen minutes into my zone-out, a stubby bird zipped overhead and landed in a tree ten feet above where I was sitting. Owl! I crept inside, and the bird was mercifully still there when I returned with my birding optics. I got the binos up, and witnessed an Eastern Screech-Owl finishing off a small rodent.

  As I watched the bird eat, the flaming wad of barbed wire that has smouldered deep in my stomach for weeks went out with a cool hiss. By the time the owl flew off to a metallic perch, the stressball had been replaced by those old familiar birding butterflies of joy. That feeling when your mind goes blank, and the screeching behind your eyes quiets, as you observe another creature doing its damndest to persevere. A timely reminder that there are forces out there that may seem smaller than us, but are in fact, much bigger.

  I’m rambling. But this was a good omen. Spring will come, and then summer will. (Is that from a movie?)

Birding in the plague years

Rockin’ my sweet 3M N95 – those good old days (2019) in
Gangneung when horrific air pollution was the only reason for masks

  
  Geez, a year ago today I was prepping for over a month of footloose and fancy-free spring birding in the Yellow Sea. Those were the good ol’ days.

  I have seen a whole whack of articles lately gushing about how this is the perfect time to go out and look at birds. I’ll do that a little, but I’ll also do some ranting, scolding, and hand-wringing.

  I’ve been watching this drunk skinhead of a pathogen slam-dance its way through Korea for a few months, through the eyes of friends, trying to prepare, and let people know this was coming. They may have turned the corner over there, and we can too, but not if we don’t take this shit seriously. The ‘West’ is not fully prepared for this. Not prepared between the ears. We are soft, wilfully ignorant, and stubborn – everyone thinks they know better than the experts. We don’t know better, stay home and wash your fucking hands, and be nice to one another. We are literally in the same boat, and it’s listing. We failed to change course, and now we’re scrambling around rearranging the deck chairs.

  Things are going to get pretty weird out there for a bit, dystopian even, but I reckon we’ll mostly get through it, albeit bent and battered. Perhaps some folks will have the scales fall from their eyes on the other end of this. Just maybe it’s time for a major rethink about a lot of the ‘big stuff’ we don’t normally have the time nor willpower to take on – those giant gears that churn behind the curtain…the beast that devours habitat and people’s lives, and shits out corporate profits. It should make you furious. We have some free time now, so think about it.

  Good thing I’m a misanthropic, anti-social curmudgeon. This social distancing thing feels pretty easy for me, for the most part. If you’re cooped up, can’t bird, and are going nuts out there and need to talk to someone about birds, shoot me an email (spaces added in a vain effort to address to combat spam): mattpoll24 at gmail dot com.

  Or, better yet, leave a comment on this post – there aren't a lot of comments on here, and I certainly don’t get to talk about birds enough on an everyday basis. Where are you in the world? What bird just flew past your window? 2020 target/nemesis bird? Worst dip? Drop a link to your bird-nerd blog. Comment!

  Spring is almost here, I can smell birds on the wind, they’re on the horizon and down a few dimly lit trails. Migratory birds will continue to fly from the southern hemisphere to the far north as they always have, because they must push their blood into the future.

  It is indeed probably time to get out and go birding. Do it! Life is (very) short. Breathe deeply in through the nose, and out through the mouth…but not right next to anyone. Keep calm and carry birds. Nope. Keep calm and bird on.

Early birds of the decade

Eastern Screech-Owl Megascops asio
(January 23)

Northern Saw-whet Owl Aegolius acadicus
(January 29)

Pileated Woodpecker Dryocopus pileatus
(January 29)

White-winged Crossbill Loxia leucoptera
(February 10)

White-winged Crossbill singing

(sorry for the video quality)

(February 10)

Downy Woodpecker Picoides pubescens
(March 5)

male Northern Cardinal Cardinalis cardinalis
(March 5)

female Northern Cardinal Cardinalis cardinalis
(March 5)

American Robin Turdus migratorius
(March 5)

White-throated Sparrow Zonotrichia albicollis
(March 5)

Pine Warbler Setophaga pinus
(March 5)

Saint-Côme
(February 10)

Saint-Côme
(February 10)

Swaggins Trail
(February 10)

  Or is it ‘birds of the early decade?’ Haven’t been getting out into the scrub much lately, with only some light birding every now and again to start the year. The majority of the trips have been failed twitches. Dips even. It’s gonna be one of those years. Mostly I have been writing, rotting, editing, mainlining Korean instant coffee, and washing my hands.

Some random high(low)lights:

January 23, Parc des Rapides/Parc Angrignon in Lasalle: Dipped on a Barrow’s Goldeneye. No scope = no distant duck. No passerines. Screech was snoozing in Angrignon, looked like a cat.

January 29, Yamachiche: Dipped on the Boreal Owl. Interesting area though.

February 10, up near Tremblant in Saint-Côme/Swaggins Trail: Dipped on an American Three-toed Woodpecker – but may have heard it (even worse). It was cold as hell. The White-winged Crossbills were a’singing in the sun.

March 5, Parc Jean-Drapeau on Ile Notre-Dame: Felt quite birdy for the time of year, with 20 species logged in two hours. Spotted the celeb Pine Warbler, and also White-throated Sparrows, Red-winged Blackbirds, and a decent supporting cast.

The Trailcam

  Here's a little story I wrote:

 https://montrealwrites.com/2020/01/31/the-trailcam-by-matt-poll/

(To read my other published birding tales, click on this handy clickety-click and scroll down:
http://snowyowllost.blogspot.ca/search/label/Writing%20stuff-published%20stories)

Sparrows of the Southwest

Harris’s Sparrow Zonotrichia querula

Harris’s Sparrow Zonotrichia querula

Harris’s Sparrow Zonotrichia querula

Harris’s Sparrow Zonotrichia querula
(with an American Tree Sparrow looking tiny by comparison in the foreground)

Vesper Sparrow Pooecetes gramineus

Vesper Sparrow Pooecetes gramineus

That photographer actually got much closer to the Vesper Sparrow...
(...how was he able to focus his 600mm lens?!)

The scene at the stream when the Harris's Sparrow showed up
(visible at the top of the ditch, under the sumac)

Lovely farm country, where icy winds stalk the land

  Headed down to the St-Anicet area a couple of days ago for a double sparrow-twitch (Harris’s and Vesper). Bleak and lovely farm country out there. I get a weird vibe on these twitches, mostly due to the fantastic spectrum of questionable behaviour by photographers inevitably on display, and it was no different this time. A traffic jam of lenses, but almost no binoculars. Folks were clotted up in chattery gaggles at the heaps of cracked corn that had been left at the side of the road. Some photogs were scream-shouting to one another, to the point where I could hear every word of their conversation from 100 feet down the road, while others walked right up to the celebrity birds when they showed up. How can you even focus on a bird from five feet away when you have a 600mm lens, m’man? Don't step on it! Boggles the mind. The confused local farmers whipping past in pickup trucks on the narrow road jammed with parked cars completed the wacky scene.
  Ah well, I couldn’t resist, as who knows when the next Harris’s Sparrow will show up. It’s apparently the largest sparrow in North America, and most are in Northern Texas this time of year, while the Vesper ought to be in Florida. I guess it could be this screwy warm winter we’re having, confusing these birds. Both reminded me of Old World Buntings, and were relatively quite confiding. Lovely, striking birds, both.
  There’s a mighty blizzard churning through the province right now, I wonder if these roadside rock-stars will still be around when the powder settles.

  On a tangent, I was struck by how the latest Sibley's book doesn't include an illustration of a first-winter Harris's Sparrow, but instead replaces it with one of a juvenile (for those people birding in high Nunavut in the summer). Why would they exclude the first-winter? I love, and will defend to the death the honour of the Sibley's guide (The sacred texts!), but I do have a few issues with moves like that, and some of the other sparrow illustrations. I guess I'm a nerd.

The Komun Dodo

  Here's my latest published short: 
https://www.dimeshowreview.com/the-komun-dodo-by-matt-poll/

  It's one of the first 'flash fiction' tales I attempted, written a couple of years ago. There was a whole birding aspect to the story that I trimmed out to ensure that it stayed under 1,000 words. Not sure how it would come out if I wrote it today.
  Geomun Island, formerly known as Komun Island, was also briefly known as Port Hamilton, when the British Navy set up a cheeky base there from 1885-1887 ("preventive occupation"), which seemed like a wacky place and time to set a story. Geomun is a charming isle, and I tried to get a job there a few years back, but was unsuccessful.

(To read my other published birding tales, click on this handy clickety-click and scroll down:
http://snowyowllost.blogspot.ca/search/label/Writing%20stuff-published%20stories)

Season's Tweetings...

...from the creepy Victorian Christmas bike-owls.

The '19 Christmas Bird Count

American Goldfinch Spinus tristis

American Crow Corvus brachyrhynchos

  I was issued the Notre-Dame-des-Neiges Cemetery for the Christmas Bird Count yesterday. The neighbouring Mount-Royal Cemetery gets all the birding glamour, but I think NDN has its decent spots too, and I do like a scruffy underdog. Wasn’t too birdy overall (nine species), but the mood of it all made up for any avian shortcomings.
  A thick, creepy-ass fog settled heavy over the cemetery all morning. Haven’t seen a fog that persistent in Montreal – it was more of a Seogwipo harbour morning fog, minus the ocean musk. There were a few moments where I was walking through wide, silent fields, surrounded completely by wet greyness. Felt like walking through limbo, or into 2020 or whatever.
  Gangs of noisy American Crows had me loping through the mist a few times, visions of owls dancing in my head, but I think they were just being bored jerks, having cawing contests. Cawntests.
  Also, I love a good mystery/conspiracy, so I’m convinced I’ve been seeing fresh Black-backed Woodpecker bark damage near where George found them a few months ago – I suspect they’re still somewhere on the mountain, happy and anonymous in some quiet corner. Or I'd like to imagine they are.

  The BPQ count-up hang-out in Mo-West after was a good time, well done, BPQ.

  Speaking of Christmas Bird Counts, my wacky book is now available in paperback format, see the post below.