On Wednesday evening, I made the trek to the mailbox on the corner to see if any mail was awaiting me. Shortly after crossing the road I heard the whisper of a familiar song. I stopped, waited for the oncoming traffic to pass by and listened intently. Yes, there it was again - the unmistakable song of the whip-poor-will. We don't usually hear them this late in the season but the sound reminded me (as if I needed reminding!) of just how wondrous this area is.
I moved here in 2008, having left the flats of eastern Ontario far behind. I'd lived in the Ottawa area since 1992, first in Ottawa itself and, later, in a small town about an hour's drive south of Ottawa. It was at Mud Lake at the Britannia Filtration Plant where I first encountered birding and fell in love with it. After joining the Ottawa Field Naturalists' Club, I went on numerous outings and called the bird line daily, all to see some amazing birds. On a regular basis in spring and fall, the bird line announced the presence of sand hill cranes at a farmer's field east of Ottawa. And off I would go to catch a view of these spectacular birds. Not once did I see one.
On owl outings, the subject of woodcocks would come up. They were back, you should see them. Go out at dusk to see their fascinating display. Never managed to see or hear a single one. On drives home from Ottawa, I would occasionally see a wild turkey, nothing more than a dark speck in a distant field. Once, I managed to hear the burble of a bobolink; another time, I watched in awe as a pileated woodpecker flew away. And the whip-poor-will was nothing more than a picture in a book.
It was early May when I moved into my current house. The first month was taken up with removing the carpet, replacing the electrical panel and painting. Finally, it was time to get outside to trim the cedar hedge which had grown so tall that it was nearly hitting the hydro line above. There I was, sawing the tops off the individual trees when I heard the oddest sound. It was definitely coming from something flying overhead so I ran over to get out from under the canopy of the maple and there, up there above my head, were three sand hill cranes flying overhead. All those hours when I had searched for them in the Ottawa area and here they were flying over my house. I would learn later that they have been around for years, nesting in the Park to the north. Since then, I've seen or heard them on multiple occasions but the thrill has never worn off.
In the summer of 2009, I discovered that I had to bring the bird feeders in overnight or the raccoons would get them. One dusky evening, I heard what I thought was a late goldfinch. All summer I was amazed with how late the goldfinches continued to call in this area. It wasn't until late spring 2010 when I realized that those goldfinches that I was hearing were actually woodcocks. Once again, the bird long searched for in Ottawa had shown up right on my property. Now I stand and enjoy their peents and other vocalizations for just a few minutes every evening in spring when I bring the feeders in.
And the turkeys......
One morning during my first winter here, I was returning from the mailbox and noticed some odd tracks in the snow on my driveway. Turkey tracks. Four young males came by regularly that winter, cleaning up the seed that had fallen to the ground from the feeders. They were very skittish and would run if they saw me at the window. During the following summer, a turkey hen started bringing her nine chicks to be fed by me. This continued all summer and into the winter. The band disbursed in the spring but Dude and his entourage of three males continued to come by every day for their feeding. Slowly the entourage disappeared until only Dude was left. He was so used to me that he would let me walk right up to him. He loved to have his seed served on the bumper of my truck so that he didn't have to reach all the way to the ground to eat. I last saw him on April 24. Hunting season started on April 25. I mourned that darned bird for over a year. I still miss him.
As for the bobolink, this summer I have had the pleasure of watching fledglings fly, of seeing males gather for a chat on the telephone lines, of following females visually as they cautiously approached their nests with food.
For two winters now, a pileated woodpecker female has come by on a daily basis, sometimes up to three times per day, for her daily serving of peanut butter. She prefers crunchy peanut butter over smooth. Often she will announce her presence if she finds that the blue jays have already eaten all the peanut butter and she will wait in the dead elm until I put more out for her.
And then there is the whip-poor-will.
I can still remember clearly that evening when I was, yes, bringing in the bird feeders. A bird was calling loudly in the distance and to remember the song so that I could look it up, I started trying to make a phrase of what it was saying. And yes, it was indeed saying whip-poor-WILL. Since then, I have been awakened at two in the morning by the calling of whip-poor-wills and it still makes me smile.
Two years in a row I completed whip-poor-will surveys covering territory further east of here. For both years, the birds were singing as I got into my car to head out, I spent two to four hours stopping at designated stops to hear not a single whip-poor-will and when I returned home, the sound was still ringing out over my house. This year, instead of following a route, I chose to do a square from the breeding bird atlas instead. Incredibly, the 2005 atlas indicated no presence of whip-poor-wills in the square that includes my house. I was pretty sure I could correct that information. With a quick trip down Victoria Road and along Alvar Road, I managed to confirm that whip-poor-wills are definitely in this square. At one stop, I had nine different whip-poor-wills calling.
And THAT is the wonder of wonderful Carden.
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