A Point Pelee Pictorial

I’m not that much of a birder, but I do like to take on a birding challenge once in a while. I used to recognize fewer than 20 species of birds, but now it’s somewhere between 50–80.

Two years ago, in 2011, I took my first trip to Point Pelee National Park, where thousands of us flock to see migrants come in at this time of year. I submitted a trip report for publication, but since it was rejected, I’m free to share it with you:

On Tuesday, May 17th, several BPQ members converged upon Point Pelee in time for the annual Spring Migration. This was the first time for me, so I have to make some kind of trip report (without a checklist of total species seen).

The first night was cold and rainy when I pulled in at 10 PM, so I quickly made a cozy sleeping platform out of a picnic table in the dining shelter. It was so comfortable, in fact, that I slept right through not one but two teams of birders as they came in for an early breakfast prior to birding at the tip of the park, where all the birds come in to land after crossing Lake Ontario.

Indeed, the first day continued being cold and rainy, and we had the misfortune of seeing many birds succumb to a week of this weather, some keeping low to the ground, exhausted from their long flight over Erie and hungry for the insects that were late to emerge. Our camp became a haven for many pairs of Scarlet Tanagers, one pair in particular becoming “pets” to our shelter until nightfall.

We also saw a Ruby-Throated Hummingbird in the flowering bushes by the shelter, as well as many warblers. I saw my first Rose-Breasted Grosbeak, along with Baltimore Orioles, a Black and White Warbler, and a Chipping Sparrow stealing crumbs left behind by birders at the Visitor’s Centre café.

On the Woodland Trail, I interrupted pursuit of a very adorable Eastern Mole, which crossed my path and swam through the swamp to safety, with a very small ferret making its dash for cover shortly after. And out on Western Beach in the evening, I saw a flock of Common Mergansers.

Thursday was thankfully much warmer, and the birds arrived in droves at the Tip, staying higher in the trees (except those foraging for bugs amongst the rocks on the beach). I pointed out some brown bats to the Mennonite children who came by (there’s a large Mennonite community in the area of Leamington). Back in the woods, I identified my first Common Yellowthroat. At the marsh, I got to appreciate the Barn Swallows up close and personal, and I finally learned to identify female Red-Winged Blackbirds, whose noisy and very recognizable partners were perched on reeds every 3 m as far as the eye could see, in every direction.

I saw a wild turkey stop traffic to cross the road. Someone had put food out for them at Sleepy Hollow, where I encountered two Quebec nature photographers taking advantage of the opportunity to snap pictures of the lured birds: a Lincoln’s Sparrow, many Blue Jays, several pairs of Indigo Buntings, and I also became familiar with the territorial soundings of the male cowbird, shepherding his mate through many other cowbirds browsing on the ground. Back at the campsite, my favourite bird of the day was a Prothonotary Warbler, who was flitting between perching on the passenger-side rear-view mirror of a minivan and the top of the passenger door, with the occasional side-trip to the windshield wiper. After about 15 minutes of waiting for the little
twit to stop uselessly expending his energy on his own offending reflection, I threw a towel over it to encourage him on his way.

At dusk, on my walk back from a noted Common Nighthawk roost (where I came up dry), I found a female bird nesting at just above eye-level in the young trees just off Centennial Trail. I resolved to find and identify her again the next day.

On Friday morning, I identified her as a Rose-Breasted Grosbeak. I then experienced the giddiness of watching two male turkeys doing their lek display at the beach volleyball court next door at Camp Henry. Later that afternoon, I saw both males and females creeping through the bush down near the Tip, where I had seen a Bay-Breasted Warbler and also a Blue-Gray Gnatcatcher.

In the woods, I saw a fledgling American Robin being accompanied by his dad, and also a very bold and active Red-Headed Woodpecker. I finally identified a Catbird, which I’d seen everywhere, but couldn’t figure out until I saw its red undertail coverts. At the marsh, I took the board walk and was rewarded by spotting an elusive pair of Wood Ducks, as well as a noisy committee (for lack of having the proper noun of a group of them!) of Black Terns.

Saturday was the last opportunity for me to see some surf birds for a while, so I went to the Tip and saw Bonaparte’s, Herring, and Ring-billed gulls. I probably saw more, but until I can identify the birds by myself, then it just doesn’t count.

After Pelee, my journey continued on to Detroit — and then into the heartland of the America, all the way down to Nebraska, taking Amtrak’s California Zephyr from Chicago. I saw Sandhill Cranes on the way down, and I saw what I presume was a Western Meadowlark in the field (in Nebraska, you can find both Eastern and Western). I also saw Cattle Egrets, Prairie Chickens, and a soaring eagle — though you can see those in Quebec, if you know where to look. And as my summer stretched on from that trip, I got further opportunities to improve my birding on the Rideau Lakes between Kingston and Ottawa. Notably, we lived near a family of loons, and regularly saw ospreys, and I even saw a Caspian Tern.

This year, I visited Point Pelee again. Point Pelee is the southernmost part of Canada. It is the heart of Carolinian Canada, representative of an endangered ecotone – a region of similar ecology, with populations of hallmark species that interact in an ecological community. Much of the Carolinian and Mixed broadleaf forest in Canada has been needlessly destroyed by agriculture and urban development. The swath of land between Windsor and Toronto — with pockets all the way to Montreal — is heavily populated and what remains of this ecotone are only small patches and vestiges.

In the woods, wherever you go, you’ll see all kinds of creatures, from snakes to the aforementioned moles to deer. Deer paths can be identified as being used enough to not be an illusion, but not enough to be created by humans.

This lovely white flower is a white violet, which I happen to have in patches in my front yard, I’ve also encouraged to grow in my backyard where there’s less light and traffic.

But here, there are also purple violets, and also a different species of yellow violet!

Off a woodland path, a young cottontail rabbit hid in the foliage until I stayed quiet for long enough that it came out. It browsed the small plants growing at the edge of the path, until it darted across to safety when newcomers came along.

I found a very large fungus, shaped like a cone, on a snaggy tree on a low-traffic seasonal footpath. Looking this up later, I found it is called Dryad’s Saddle. What a fanciful name! A dryad is a tree nymph or spirit in Greek mythology.

This prickly pear cactus is one of two populations found in Canada. It grows in the open savannah.

I’d like to be involved in landscape restoration work, as a botanist/ecologist and simply as a person who likes mucking about planting things. It’s also something we need to do within our cities, not just “unproductive” agricultural field or pasture or land lying “disused.” But on a plus note: land lying disused will revert to ecological use!

We also saw a Kirtland’s warbler, a real “lifer” — a bird rare enough to get birders coming from all over to see it.

And on the last morning, this mother robin was feeding a brood of four chicks in a nest she made in a sign on a park building:

Big Days — my Point Pelee bird list

I had my first Big Day ever, where I saw more than 100 birds, thanks to having an excellent birder, Andrew, volunteer guide me on one of those mornings. I couldn’t have done it without his help. Here’s the list of the birds I saw on this trip just as I wrote them down (any white space between list items doesn’t mean anything):