January 3rd, 2011

December 21st was the first day of winter, not spring. Yet on Christmas Eve I saw a robin in my neighbourhood, and on Christmas Day another 6 or 8!!

My daughter and I were out walking our nearly 15 year-old Brittany, a bird dog, on Christmas Eve when we heard the soft whistle of a cedar waxwing. I sometimes acknowledge a bird’s presence and identity without further attempt to locate it, but waxwings are always a treat to see so we glanced up in the direction of the call. To our surprise, the single waxwing was accompanied by a robin!!

Robins generally migrate south for winter – as connoisseurs of worms they must head to warmer climes where the ground doesn’t freeze in order to indulge their diet. But a few will stay around – this year’s Christmas Bird Count for the Kitchener area on December 18 produced 165 sightings, easily doubling the previous high of 81!!

Robin’s beaks are not suited to eating seeds, so we rarely see them at our feeders. Instead, they dine on berries such as dogwood, hackberry, buckthorn, and highbush cranberry found in many fields and forests, and along our stream courses and waterways. In our case, the Morrison Park robins were feasting on juniper berries and the helicopter-like keys of Manitoba maple.

On Chrismas Day, in the waning light-of-day, I encountered a group of robins numbering 6 or 8 in the same location. This warm light is a photographer’s delight, and I hurried the dog along (as fast as a 15 year old canine can go) so that I could return with my camera. By the time I returned the light was low, and the robins reclusive, so the shots I took were less than National Geographic quality. I did spend 20 minutes or so watching them meticulously select, pluck and gobble down their pre-slumber fill of juniper berries. Another couple out for a walk approached from behind, and seeing me with camera and tripod gazing into the greenery at nothing, helpfully volunteered in a whisper – “we just saw a robin!”

If you’re reading this, you’ve likely already read Sean’s account of the 2010 Christmas Bird Count for Kitchener and his encounter with a couple of great horned owls. Last Wednesday, at dusk, as we were en route to visit with friends in Haliburton, my wife and daughter simultaneously caught the flash of a barred owl as it took flight from one side of the road to the other. We made a U-turn (as birders are known to do), and pulled over for a better look. The light was low as we selected “barred owl” from the playlist on our iPod and broadcast it from the open car window. It was alert to the sound, swiveling it’s head to look back at us in the amazing manner that owls do. We had but a few moments to marvel at this most mysterious of birds before it once again took flight, winging it’s way with deep, silent strokes, across the winter landscape.