Exploring Kootenay Lake

In 1900, the Christmas Bird Count (CBC) was started in the U.S. and Canada as a counter measure to the sport of the day of seeing how many birds could be killed. The more civilized sport of seeing how many birds could be counted has now spread across many countries and thousands of volunteers. Many communities around the Lake have already had their CBC, Nelson had its count yesterday.

As usual, I tagged along with one of the teams in the hope of shooting birds—albeit with a camera. Some irreverent results below.

This Hooded Merganser is clearly willing to stand up and be counted.

The problem of counting is not always so simple. Consider this shot into the middle third of one of a number of populations on the Lake. There are many species, and they are constantly shifting position. By the time a couple of birds of one species have been counted, the pattern has rearranged itself.

This Ring-necked Duck seems to cast a gloomy eye towards the census taker. Maybe it thinks it is covered by Canada’s privacy legislation.

Some birds seemed oblivious to the presence of counters. Such was the case with a Song Sparrow,

a wigeon,

and another Hooded Merganser.

A rather large flock of goldfinches seemed skittish about human visitors, with the possible exception of this phlegmatic bird. It permitted my best shot of the day.

Not the best shot, but perhaps the funniest, is this one. Do you suppose that the dock owner would consider these birds merit prestige parking? I certainly do.

The Rowan Tree is generally known as the Mountain Ash in North America. Yet, I must admit that I am partial to the earlier name. Rowan comes from an Old Norse name that means “getting red”, a reference to the berries. These berries appeal to a number of birds, but particularly appealing to me photographically are those birds which are, themselves, reddish. I give a couple of examples from this New-Year’s Day. To these, I add a couple of nice extras seen today.

The Pine Grosbeak is not seen every winter. In some years it irrupts from its northern habitat. It does seem partial to rowan berries. This reddish one enjoying the rowan berries is a male.

The female Pine Grosbeak is not nearly as colourful, but that does not stop her from enjoying the rowan berries.

Our most common woodpecker is the Red-shafted Northern Flicker. This male is inching its way down a branch to reach the rowan berries,

and it succeeded in eating some.

Also seen today (but not feasting on rowan berries) was a Golden-crowned Kinglet,

and a rather young-looking Great Blue Heron.

• Some humans are wont to mark the transition from one year to the next.
• Some humans are wont to treat birds metaphorically.

Two Common Mergansers leave familiar waters,

and settle into new ones.

“Uncommon, but widespread” is how one author describes the Great Horned Owl. Uncommon indeed: I had never seen one before. Further, others last saw one around here three months ago. So, it was a delight to spot one yesterday sleeping over a snow bank along the road between New Denver and Kaslo.

A curious aspect of the Great Horned, other than its considerable size, is that it begins courting as early as December. Indeed, this one seemed to already have a companion.

The Great Horned Owl sleeps during the day, but this one stirred briefly when a noisy snow plough drove by.

The traffic was sparse across this mountain pass, but after a time the owl decided to move farther from the road. It flew to a tree where it appears to snuggle with a companion.

“Its daytime; all I want to do is sleep.”

‘Tis the season of family gatherings. ‘Tis the season of road trips. ‘Tis the season of watching nature from the window of a car.

On this season’s jaunt, only birds were seen (no mammals)—seven pictures below.

Irruptive birds are not regular seasonal migrants, but ones that come south only every few years. On this drive, I saw three irruptive species, all finches. The first to be seen was also the least common: White-winged Crossbills.

Only seen a bit more frequently is the Pine Grosbeak. As with the other finches, it was seen consuming gravel from the roads (grit apparently aids in digestion).

The final finch seen feeding on the road was, curiously, the most frequently seen one: the Pine Siskin.

Four Bald Eagles were seen, but this one was the only sub adult.

A Pileated Woodpecker was seen hunting on a tree below one of the eagles.

This is one of two Red-tailed Hawks seen.

Nearly missed, because it was so small, was a Pygmy Owl.

It was long gone before I arrived.

Derek Kite spotted the Northern Pygmy Owl during a walk, took many pictures of it, and promptly alerted me. Alas, I did not get to see the bird, but Derek graciously allowed me to use his superb images on this blog.

Appropriately named, the pygmy owl is the smallest of the owls to be seen around the Lake: it is only about 15 to 17 cm long. An owl of the Pacific Cordillera, it is a sit-and-wait predator that (unusual for owls) hunts mainly during the day. While it is happy to hunt other birds and even reptiles and amphibians, it seems to specialize in voles (as do so many other predators).

An owl’s eyes are not spherical (as are a human’s) but shaped somewhat like the pellet of an air gun. This gives them a rather large retina, but means that the eyes cannot easily turn in their sockets. The owl’s solution to this ocular inflexibility is to compensate with an amazingly flexible neck (many extra vertebrae) which enables it to turn its head around almost backwards. Here the Pygmy Owl has done just that, and in doing so, revealed some eye spots on the back of its head. This owl is sufficiently small that it can be the object of predation by other owls, and even jays, crows, ravens, snakes, and weasels. What better way to intimidate your foes than to suggest that you are watching them even when you are not.

Derek Kite’s pictures are used with permission.