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.”
This is a collection of images from this October, none of which has had a posting of its own. The month started slowly with many walks producing few good observations, but things improved towards month’s end.
A dozen different species of gull have been seen occasionally, but only three are really common: Herring Gull, Ring-billed Gull, and California Gull. This is the California.
I rarely see a House Sparrow (male on left, female on right), despite it being widespread and common across the continent. However, the bird is an urban junkie, and I am rural.
A Double-crested Cormorant had been seen a few times early in the month, but always swimming in distant waters. This one was nearby as it took its leave from a piling.
The Black-billed Magpie is a striking bird, but somewhat uncommon in this heavily forested region. So, getting a close shot of one flying past packing prey (a grasshopper) was a delight.
This iridescent wave cloud was seen the same day as the Bufflehead Duck’s iridescent feathers.
A female elk resting in a forest was seen about an hour prior to the elk exhaling steam fog.
In the cold-morning air, an elk could see its breath. It is my guess that elk will have, at best, only a shallow grasp of the physics of the experience.
The elk’s exhaling is producing steam fog. The process producing the condensation is identical to that which produces steam fog on the lake and the condensation trails (contrails) from the engines of high-flying jet planes.
Condensation of water vapour results from either one of two different situations: vapour cooling (a consequence of the slope of the vapour-pressure curve); vapour mixing (a consequence of the shape of the curve).
Some writers find it tempting to explain the condensation by claiming that the exhaled vapour is cooled by encountering the cold air. Yet, the resulting mixture has undergone neither a net cooling nor a change in average moisture content. So, vapour cooling cannot be the origin of this condensation.
However, vapour mixing, by itself, can produce condensation, particularly when there are great differences in the moisture and temperatures of the things being mixed, such as with contrails, steam fog over water, and seeing one’s breath.
An odd thing is that people watching the elk and breathing the same air did not see their own breaths. The implication is that the air exhaled from the elk’s lungs had the higher temperature (and moisture content). Possibly this occurs because these elk have just transitioned into their winter fur and were somewhat overheated.
A female elk breathes out steam fog.
A spike elk (a yearling male) breathes out.
Apparently, another youth has just taken up vaping.
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.
This is a supplemental story to that of the reluctant ewe, posted yesterday. Initially, there were actually four rams courting the ewe: the adult and three juveniles. However, the posting picked up the story after the adult ram had driven off the three juveniles (among Bighorn Sheep, dominance is largely just a matter of horn size).
Although these juvenile rams had also fancied the ewe, they were driven off, but remained horny.
So the ram at the back of the parade mounted the middle ram (while it was sniffing the ram in the front). Having been denied the comfort of a ewe, it took its pleasures with another ram.
The second image is courtesy of Cynthia Fraser.
Bighorn Sheep mating seems to involve lopsided urges. My (admittedly casual) observations are that the only concession a female makes is to turn up to the rut. Beyond that, she seems uninterested in any ensuing activity.
A ram pursues an uninterested ewe. His tongue is out to sample her flank for a sign of oestrus.
The ewe tries to escape the ram’s amorous advances.
Ultimately she merely lies down and adopts a position where she cannot be mated (even when in oestrus, she remains passive). He sits nearby biding his time. I got bored and wandered away.
October is a month of transitions.
Katabatic winds flow out over the water and give rise to ephemeral sprites of steam fog. Curiously, despite the gentleness of the wind, a steam devil emerges.
The orangish colours of Western Larch have spread around the shore.
Bighorn Sheep have gathered in anticipation of the forthcoming rut.
The Pied-billed Grebe gains its name from the dark band around its bill, seen only during the breeding season (2012/04/21).
Our four regular grebes all dive underwater to forage. The smallest of these is the Pied-billed Grebe. It mostly eats small fish and crustaceans, such as crayfish, which it captures and crushes with its stout bill and strong jaws before swallowing them.
After it surfaces with a prize, one has to be fast to see what has been caught, for the prey is swallowed in a trice.
A nearly five-year old picture, shows a Pied-billed Grebe downing a crayfish (2015/01/08).
Yesterday’s Pied-billed Grebe took only five seconds to down a small fish after surfacing.
Surf Scoters are really uncommon visitors to this region.
In the summer, Surf Scoters breed beside small boreal lakes, all of which are at least 800 km north of here. They winter along the Pacific coast, over 400 km to the west. Scoters have scant reason to pass this way during migration and so are rarely seen. However, now and then, storms drive them astray.
A male Surf Scoter visits.
