The Year of the Grosbeak

I have to go out soon so I'm going to cheat and post a story I'd written previously.  If you have received the newsletters for either the Kawartha or Carden Field Naturalists, you may have read this story before as it was published in the fall 2011 issues for both clubs.  When I return, I will let you know about the fabulous evening I had yesterday but was too tired to write about last night.


The Year of the Grosbeak

I am the Evening Grosbeak Lady.

For much of my life, I have been the invisible one, the one whose name and face are forgotten, the wallflower.  I really would have made a good spy.

All that changed early in 2011.

The story really starts on November 15, 2010.  It was on that date that I recorded the presence of nine evening grosbeaks for my first day of Project FeederWatch.  By Dec. 6, the number had risen to 30 and had doubled to 62 by Jan. 3.  I was thrilled every day to see them despite the incredible amount of seed that they were eating.  But it never dawned on me to report their presence to anyone.

Around that time, there was a report on OntBirds about a northern hawk-owl in the Lake Dalrymple area of Carden.  It had been around for over a week and still I had not made the 20 minute drive to the area to find it.  I admit that I am pretty much a lazy birder - if it doesn’t come to my yard, I’m not going to make much effort to go see it.  Not for me the trips to southwestern Ontario to see the fork-tailed flycatcher or to eastern Ontario to see the impossibly massive numbers of snow geese gathering in the spring.

Finally, one Saturday morning I decided that it was ridiculous that here was an owl just down the road and I had not yet seen it.  So I headed outside, broom in hand to wipe the snow off the car.  And there, parked at the bottom of my driveway was a fellow sitting in his car, camera lens sticking out the passenger side window.  We chatted briefly about the beauty of these grosbeaks and how we both had yet to see the owl.  Then off he went and I returned to brushing the snow off my car.

By the time I had arrived in the area for the owl, there were, naturally, a number of cars already there.  After all, it was Saturday and those who had had to be at work all week were free to drive miles to see this bird.  With all these eyes searching, we did manage to see the owl though it was well back from the road and could be seen clearly only through a scope.

At some point during this gathering of birders, I happened to mention that I had evening grosbeaks at my feeders.  Every head in the group whirled in my direction.  I could literally see ears being perked.

“Oh, really!”  The interest was palpable and I offered that anyone interested in seeing them could follow me home.  I left the owl area with a cavalcade of four cars behind me.  Upon arriving home, we found two more cars sitting at the side of the road looking at the birds.

Of course, the grosbeaks were spooked by the cars and it was then that the weight of responsibility settled on my shoulders and didn’t leave for nearly three months.  It was a weight that would never have occurred to me to feel before this point.  It was the weight of wanting “my” birds to perform (show up) for the visitors.

So we all stood around for a while until a few birds showed up.  I was disappointed that there were so few when usually there were so many but these few birds seemed to satisfy.

After a while, everyone had had their fill of the birds and I returned inside, immediately firing up the computer.  Heart pounding, I posted to OntBirds for the very first time.  It was mid afternoon on Saturday,  Jan. 8, 2011 and it was the start of a real eye-opening experience.

Sunday, Jan. 9 came in clear and bright with pretty pleasant winter temperatures.  The evening grosbeaks woke me up with their chattering.  I had just settled in front of the computer, Coronation Street playing on the TV beside me, when I noticed a car parked at the side of the road.  People came and went for much of the day.  A few arrived later in the afternoon when there was not a single grosbeak in sight.  It was then that I realized that they had a tendency to disappear around 2 pm. - a habit they maintained all winter.

On Monday, I expected to have no visitors.  After all, most birders would be at work.  Right?  Wrong!  Who should show up but two very good birders from Toronto.  I’d heard of one of them but never met her or seen her digiscoping techniques.  They enjoyed the grosbeaks but it was the flock of over 50 redpolls that seemed to most interest them and they spent quite some time looking for a hoary in amongst the commons.  Alas, they all appeared to be commons but a few hoaries did show up later in February.

Okay, these two are pretty avid birders.  So when Tuesday arrived, I again expected that the rush would be over and my grosbeaks, redpolls and I would have an ordinary day.  Wrong again!  The day was made extraordinary when a group of birders from Collingwood arrived.

I was away from the house on Wednesday but when I arrived home, I noticed fresh tire tracks and unknown footprints.  My birds had been appreciated even while I was away.

I guess by now you are getting the picture.  Or perhaps you saw this coming when I first reported the birds on OntBirds.  From that day, there was someone coming by every day in January and every other day in February.

One day, it was a father and son from Connecticut; on another a group from Pennsylania.  A couple of guys who’d been owling on Amherst Island before coming up to my place were from Maryland.  And there were lots and lots of birders from Toronto.

For some birders, including the 14 year old son from Connecticut, this was a chance to see a life bird.  For many, it was an opportunity to catch up on a bird that used to be seen in great numbers when they were kids but hadn’t been seen in a long long time.  For most, it was the thrill of getting an outstanding photograph.  And for both Saturday and Sunday for two weekends in a row, the paparazzi stood for hours in bitterly cold winds, each one with camera gear that likely cost more than my entire house.

Some folks came by just once; others came by multiple times.  I made some good acquaintances out of these guests.

By March, the numbers of visitors dropped to almost zero.  Other birds had arrived and pulled the interest away from my grosbeaks and life became dully ordinary.  The redpolls, which topped out with a count of about 300, were last seen on April 22.  A small flock of nine grosbeaks stayed around until May 8.  The highest count for them was 82 in February.

So while it was a relief to have the feed bill go down, I was sorry to see the excitement end.

But it hadn’t ended.  I am still reaping the dividends of that exciting winter.

In spring, looking for the yellow rail at Sedge Wren Marsh in Carden, I was identified as The Evening Grosbeak Lady.  At the Loggerhead Shrike Appreciation dinner in August, I again encountered “strangers” who hadn’t recognized me outside of my winter clothing but who came up to me to thank me for allowing them to come see my birds.  In September, on a trip to Cranberry Marsh to watch the hawk migration, I was lucky enough to encounter more folks who had been up to my place in the winter.  Perhaps most fun, though, was during this trip.  We had carpooled from Fenelon Falls and transferred to another vehicle in Lindsay.  The driver of that vehicle, once she realized who I was, did a little jig of excitement and exclaimed, “I can’t believe I have the Evening Grosbeak Lady in my car!”  How’s that for a head-swelling experience!

Sadly, here it is, not a single evening grosbeak showed up during the winter of 2012.

I will, however, be eternally grateful to these birds who made my winter of 2011 so exciting and who opened me up to the birding world.

I'm not so invisible any more!