Exploring Kootenay Lake

An accidental bird is one that turns up well outside its normal range. Also known as a wanderer, it just doesn’t fit the local phenology.

Today, I twice saw an accidental Anna’s Hummingbird. Each observation was remarkably fleeting, and my pictures of it have the quality of things I normally delete. But, it was an Anna’s and so I show them. Also shown is a really fine shot by the person who alerted me to the bird’s occasional visits to a home feeder.

People at the (Pacific) Coast often see an Anna’s Hummingbird. As these birds do not migrate, they are present year round. But, they are far from normal here. 

The Anna’s Hummingbird landed on a branch and promptly lifted off again.

It flew past me and then left.

It turned up a day or so earlier and my host managed a superb shot of it.

The final picture is used with permission.

It was an odd request (but it came from a subscriber to this blog):

[T]here are two deadheads by the water’s edge where the American Coots are climbing out and playing a version of Coot of the Castle. The green legs of the water chicken are stunning…. Please present some pictures at your leisure.

At the waterfront, there are flocks of hundreds of coots amongst various species of ducks: mallards, scaups, wigeons, redheads…. At first look, it is difficult to realize that despite their proximity, a coot isn’t just another duck. Indeed, it isn’t a duck at all. The fact that it looks somewhat like them is just a case of convergent evolution: the process by which really distantly related organisms evolve similar body forms when exposed to similar conditions. Coots are actually members of the Gruiform Order (which includes cranes and rails) and are closely related to moorhens — thus the reference to the water chicken. 

All of this might seem a tad academic, until one sees the coot’s feet. Unlike the Anatidae Order (which contains swans, geese and ducks) all with webbed feet, coots have individual toes with broad lobes to facilitate swimming — thus the reference to their legs.

Two coots sit on a deadhead. One displays its lobed toes.

Coots remain territorial year round. So even when they form large gregarious winter flocks, they will aggressively attack one another. It is the off season for coot breeding and there seems to be little to defend, yet they still go at it.

To signal aggressive intentions, a coot will arch its wings and raise its tail to show white patches.

It was unclear why one bird felt it necessary to defend its shifting patch of water. 

However, it was aggressive towards a number of its neighbours. 

Five swans have been hanging out at Nelson’s waterfront for a few days. They have stopped by to refuel during their long migration south from the Arctic. Despite the appearance of being a single family of five, it is probably one of four Trumpeter Swans and one Tundra Swan.

The swans spent their time dabbling as they fed in the shallows.

Two adult swans are whitish, while three juveniles are greyish. When first spotted by Chris Drysdale, there was just a family of four Trumpeters. A fifth swan, another juvenile, was hundreds of metres along the shore and hanging out with Canada Geese. This fact alone suggests that the extra juvenile wasn’t part of the Trumpeter’s family. However, it sort of joined the others, but remained standoffish. Indeed, getting close pictures of the five of them together presented problems because while the extra swan remained in the vicinity of the others, it was only rarely close. In this picture, the extra swan is at the back (right), but swimming past the others.

Evidence is piling up that the fifth one is a Tundra Swan. Not only did it not arrive with the others, but it is smaller than the Trumpeter juveniles and in this shot, it is being attacked by one of them. 

What is likely a Tundra juvenile is the swan at the front (farthest away). It is distinctly smaller that the Trumpeters. Also, examine the legs of the three of them. A feature of Trumpeter juveniles is their pale drab-yellow legs. Tundra juvenile legs are black.

Trumpeter Swans enjoy the serenity of being a Trumpeter. 

“I don’t care how badly you Trumpeters treat me, I am proud to be a Tundra.”

Bufflehead Ducks might be seen throughout the year, but they become fairly common during cold months. In the past couple of weeks, buffleheads have been appearing around the area. They are our smallest duck: a black and white male and a brownish female with a white cheek patch.

The description of the male as being black and white is a tad deceptive for the black feathers on its head (although not elsewhere) can be strikingly iridescent. Five weeks ago, I showed similar magpie iridescence. The process with male buffleheads is the same: the duck’s iridescent feathers contain a basal melanin layer, which produces the black by absorption, but above that are reflecting platelets, which produce iridescent colours. The iridescence arises in a similar way as those in a slick of (burnt) oil on black pavement. Light reflected from the base of the slick interferes with that from the top of the slick to preferentially select various wavelengths. 

However, the effective spacing between the reflective layers depends upon the viewing angle so sometimes one colour is seen, sometimes another, and sometimes nothing but black. The trick is to have the proper geometry between the sun, the duck and the observer.

A group of male and female Bufflehead Ducks swim by. There is a hint of iridescence on the heads of the two males at the front. However, the bufflehead at the back (right) has his head turned and he shows no iridescence at all.

The male duck at the rear turns its head. Suddenly, a beautiful range of colours appears.