Typically, swans stop at the Lake to feed only for a few days during their migrations north or south. However, there are two Trumpeters that have occupied the lakelet west of Kokanee Creek Park for about a month. I saw them as they flew in on January 12th, but only managed a picture four days later. Now a month later, they are still with us.
I could get used to the idea of persistent winter swans.
Two Trumpeter Swans have been hanging out west of Kokanee Creek Park for a month.
My mother told me of the winter of 1934-35 when the Lake at Nelson froze and people and vehicles could cross on the ice. Indeed, a number of early reports and photographs tell of sternwheelers battling widespread ice on the West Arm of the Lake.
Such extensive freezing has not happened in recent decades. It might be tempting to blame global warming, but that would be wrong: The primarily change is not a result of an abundance of CO2, but a consequence of the Columbia River Treaty.
The Columbia River Treaty resulted in dams that increased both lake depth and flow rate along the West Arm in the winter. The consequence was that days with really cold air were now insufficient to freeze surface water in the face of turbulent mixing of warmer water from below. One no longer expects to see extensive freezing of the lake surface. So, why did I see it two days ago on Thursday, February 9th?
The temperature at the time was not particularly low, being only -3 °C, however, the air was perfectly still. No breeze meant no waves, and no waves meant no mixing of the surface water and equally, no disruption of the thin ice that was now able to form.
The lack of wind and waves has allowed extensive, but thin, ice to form over the Lake, but even now it has avoided the deeper and more rapid flow in the channel.
“I cannot think that I have ever done anything to deserve this.”
“Quite complaining, thrush. Do you think that mallards were designed to be icebreakers?”
It is snowing. Here is one snowflake’s view as it drifts down to join its colleagues in a forest.
This is an end-of-the-month collection of images, none of which has had a posting of its own.
Each winter, we hope to see irruptive species, birds whose southward migration is sufficiently erratic that on any given year they may or may not appear. There are perhaps a dozen-and-a-half such species that one sees only every so often. This has not been a good year to see irruptive species. I saw a flock of Pine Siskins last November, a half-dozen Bohemian Waxwings this month, and this lone Pine Grosbeak. Slim pickings, indeed, for this winter.
The Belted Kingfisher is a permanent resident and a frequent visitor along the lakeshore.
I see a Pileated Woodpecker maybe once a month, but I cannot recall seeing two together before. The one on the left is an adult, but the dark eye of the one on the right indicates that it is a juvenile.
At only a tenth the weight of the Pileated is the Downy Woodpecker. It is not seen as often.
Throughout a year, I see many birds and mammals and many of their young. Yet, I rarely have seen a dead animal. I guess that nature normally cleans them up quickly. This dead Long-tailed Weasel could not have been cleaned up by nature until it was first fished out a toilet where it had drowned.
Distinctly more alive is this female Bighorn Sheep.
In late January a year ago, I managed to get a picture of Double-crested Cormorant expressing itself (Now hear this). It has happened again.
It is not everyday that one sees one, let alone three, owls. Seen were the smallest of our owls, the Northern Pygmy Owl, and the largest, two Great Horned Owls. (In fairness, the Snowy Owl is even bigger, but it is rarely seen locally, and then only when it has wandered far off course.) The owls are presented in the opposite order in which they were seen during last week’s visit to the Creston Flats.
The Pygmy Owl is unusual in both hunting during the day, and being the smallest of our owls. The eyeballs of an owl are not spherical and so cannot be rotated in their sockets. Consequently, to look around, an owl must rotate its head, something facilitated by extra neck vertebrae. A composite of two pictures taken of a pygmy sitting on a great mullein illustrates. Without turning its body, the left image shows it looking towards the camera, while the right image shows it looking the other way. The back of its head reveals two fake-eye spots. If you are small, it helps to imply you are always wary.
This Great Horned Owl was seen sleeping on private property, so it wasn’t possible to get closer. What is difficult to realize by comparing this picture with the previous one is the great size disparity: the Great Horned is about twenty times the weight of a Northern Pygmy. This is one big bird.
Named for both its size (great), and the feathered tufts on its head (horned), the Great Horned Owl has become a movie cliche. Despite the fact that only two species of owls hoot (the other is the Barred Owl), every spooky nighttime movie scene must include the hoots of a Great Horned Owl.
When a Great Horned Owl flies, it flattens its feathered tufts, and this reduces both drag and aerodynamic noise. When this owl flies after prey, few escape. Notably, it regularly takes skunks (it seems impervious to the smell). Germain to the present situation, it regularly attacks and eats the Rough-legged Hawk, a raptor with which it shares the Creston Flats in the winter.
By the end of the 1930s, the broad flood plains at the southern end of the Lake had been dyked and grain cultivation had began. Grain attracts rodents; rodents attract predators; predators attract naturalists. (Of course, it is also appealing that the valley is a migratory bird route.)
A January visit is often rich in coyotes and raptors. This week, snow hid rodents and so predators seemed sparse. However, there were enough to make it interesting and below are three. Owls will be treated in another posting.
A coyote roams the Creston Flats in the fog as it hunts for rodents under the snow.
The Red-tailed Hawk is a staple year round. While it has a variable plumage, the dark patagial bars on the inner front edge of the underwings are important distinguishing features.
Sightings of a Rough-legged Hawk are a major reason to visit the Creston Flats in January. This raptor spends its summer in the Arctic breeding and feeding on lemmings. Only in the winter does it visit southern Canada. Distinguishing features are the dark patches at the bends of the wings.
So unexpected was yesterday’s sighting of a mink that I initially guessed it was a particularly small otter. Small indeed. While the otter and the mink are both semiaquatic members of the same weasel family (mustelidae), the otter is about eight times the weight of the mink.
Yesterday, my backyard thermometer rose to +5° C for the first time in over a month. And with the warmth, Ruffed Grouse reappeared — two of them seen over 3 km apart.
The first grouse sat motionless in the bush and appeared to be a log butt showing its grain.
The second grouse didn’t feel any need to hide. It brazenly crossed my path confident that its plumage offered camouflage even in snow. It seems destined to make some coyote very happy.
Fresh from having seen Trumpeter Swans in Kokanee Creek Park, I have now seen an accipiter there.
Accipiters are a genus of hawks; They are not a species. Accipiters are distinguished by short, broad wings which have been adapted for fast flight through woods. As such, accipiters would seem to be a comfortable fit to our highly wooded Park.
But, which accipiter did I see? The picture, below, suggests two likely choices: Cooper’s Hawk, Sharp-shinned Hawk. At first I guessed one, but then decided from the picture that it was probably the other.
However, rather than influence the few hard-core birders who subscribe to my blog, I leave it to them to tell me what it was that I saw in the Park.
