Every so often, I like to go birding without a plan and without scouring eBird to find out what I’m likely to see. In other words, sometimes even I can be spontaneous with my birding. A few weeks ago a friend and I set out for Carden Alvar, a wonderful—and imperiled—grassland habitat two hours north east of Toronto. One of the few remaining alvars habitats in Ontario, the area is an open habitat with a thin covering of soil over a base of limestone, with sparse vegetation and grazing cattle, which helps with grass maintenance. Upland Sandpipers, Wilson’s Snipe, Bobolink, and the elusive and endangered Loggerhead Shrike thrive in such habitat, and it’s no wonder the area is designated an Important Bird Area (IBA). If the birds weren’t spectacular enough, the area is also home to that patches of gorgeous wildflowers including fuchsia Prairie Smoke and dark orange Indian Paintbrush in early June.
This time, I drove out to Carden Alvar with hopes, but no expectations. When my friend asked me what birds I wanted to see, I answered honestly, “I’ll be happy with whatever we see.” It turned out that sometimes setting aside checklists and target species in favor of being open to discovery, to whatever birds the day had in store for me produces absolutely magical results.
Immediately after parking alongside a cattle field, I saw an Eastern Bluebird flying toward his nest box with twigs in his mouth, and then a few seconds later, I noticed his mate sitting on a branch, eyeing him with suspicion, checking to make sure he was performing his parental duties. A few meters beyond the bluebirds, Bobolink were chattering, and I had the chance to appreciate their distinctive song that sounds exactly like a virtuoso R2D2 from Star Wars. I watched them swoop down from the shrubs and fly back up to their perch again. Seeing Bobolink is always a treat: I can’t get enough of the striking platinum patch of plumage at the back of their head, in stark contrast with the rest of his black head. As I was listening to the Bobolink, several Wilson’s Snipe appeared on the scene and started competing for attention with their distinctive winnow, which, I was surprised to learn, isn’t a call or a song, but rather a sound made by their tail feathers in flight. Finally, when they realized that I had stopped watching the Bobolink, the Wilson’s Snipe posed for me on a fence post and demanded I digiscope them. The Harpia Scope provided just the right amount of light on this overcast day to appreciate the brownish, cryptic plumage on this plump bird with a preternaturally long bill and eyes set far back on its head which allows it to see backwards as well as forwards!
As we walked further down the road separating two ranches, Upland Sandpipers regaled us with excellent looks. This bizarre short-billed curlew is a shorebird that doesn’t like the water! Instead Upland Sandpipers avoid wetlands and hang out in grasslands and pastures where they hunt insects and often stop on fence posts to the wild delight of birdwatchers. We were lucky and saw three of them both in flight and standing still. When the sandpiper alighted on a fence post directly in front of my, the close focus on my SFL binoculars worked its magic and I saw the bird in full mottled, golden-brown regalia on its neck and back, with a bold white eyering.
As we approached a marsh, I wondered who we would see beyond a Marsh Wren and dozens of Red-winged Blackbirds. The road had enormous puddles on account of our rainy start to spring, and just as I started scanning the water with my binoculars, three diminutive black fluffballs scurried around the puddle and hid in the reeds. And then they were back! Three baby Virginia Rails with enormous feet ran across the road again. And then a fourth one appeared from the grasses. Just as I was setting up my scope, the parents appeared on scene too, and a family of six Virginia Rails posed for photographs.
I adore the entire Rallidae family—in fact any bird related to chickens in one form or another makes my heart sing—but they are notoriously hard to see. I often hear them in Toronto parks, but hadn’t seen one in over a year. And now, perhaps because I hadn’t set the bird as a target, hadn’t gotten my hopes up, it appeared, as if magically telling me that it’s often good to birdwatch with a spirit of discovery, and with the one goal of falling in love with whatever it is you happen to see. Perhaps because I hadn’t planned on seeing a rail, the thrill of seeing a family of six was all the sweeter!
I didn’t think the day could get any better after the rails, but then an American Bittern emerged silently from the reeds and flew over our heads, giving us excellent looks at its neck with long brown vertical stripes. Following on the heels of the bittern, three Grasshopper Sparrows materialized. We heard their buzzy song before we saw these curious birds that seem to be almost neck-less. The SFL binoculars certainly enhanced my admiration for the bird’s plumage, which I used to think was just plain old brown. This time, I detected variation between the buffy breast, white belly, light streaking and hint of chestnut under its wing, as well as the distinctive white eyering. The embarrassment of riches that day also included a Golden-winged Warbler and a Loggerhead Shrike, which is critically endangered in Ontario and being closely monitored by conservationists and scientists.
Grassland birds are in steep decline, largely due to catastrophic habitat loss. They are perhaps some of the most underrated birds given their brownish hues that camouflage perfectly with their surroundings, the challenge that seeing them presents to the beginner birder. Observing grassland birds through top quality optics makes a huge difference and adds significantly to one’s enjoyment. What a joy to spend the day with them! And what a magical experience to birdwatch by letting the birds themselves—rather than my expectations—act as my guide.
Julia Zarankin is a writer, lecturer, birder and ZEISS Ambassador based in Toronto.
She is the author of the book “Field notes from an unintentional birder”, a lovely and moving memoir about her transformation into a bird nerd.
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