The PenOpticon

We drove out to Whitby this morning and wandered around the woods to see clouds of Monarchs gathering for fall migration. Also had lots of migrant warblers: Black-thoated blue, Tennesse, Wilsons, Cape May, American Redstart, Yellow-Rump, etc.

The House Sparrow is a tough, adaptable species that has become a North American de facto standard. Look out any window, stare at any telephone line or check the pavement next to any hotdog vendor and chances are you’ll see four or five or fifty of these things. Though they seem to own the place, House Sparrows are a fairly recent import in North America. It is said they were first introduced by Nicholas Pike in 1850 when he brought eight pairs over from England and released them in Central Park. It took several tries, but within a few years, House Sparrows learned how to make a go of things in North America — largely by eating grains, animal feed and feasting upon horse dung and garbage in cities. It is estimated that there are at least 150 million House Sparrows in North America today.

The House Sparrow and other European species was introduced for both esthetic and environmental reasons. Pike and others mistakenly expected the birds to help control worm infestations in forests. Between 1872 and 1874, the Cincinnati Acclimatization Society introduced 4000 European songbirds (18 species), but only House Sparrows and Starlings found a foothold and spread. They wanted to “aid people against the encroachment of insects” and to make sure that the “ennobling influence of the song of birds will be felt by the inhabitants”. Unfortunately, these exotic introductions helped cause a major decline in the population of North American native songbirds by driving away Bluebirds, swallows, warblers and other species. It is sadly ironic that because House Sparrows are primarily seed-eaters, their introduction in North America actually encouraged more widespread insect infestations.

A few years ago, Graeme Gibson wrote an interesting book called The Bedside Book of Birds: an Avian Miscellany. It’s a collection of writings from many places and times that deal with the symbolism of birds. I’d like to suggest that in North America, at least, the House Sparrow has nothing to do with symbolism and everything to do with realism. The lowly House Sparrow is more of a mirror — a direct reflection of our strivings and our capacity for colossal error.

Since I’ve become a casual birder (meaning I don’t put nearly enough effort into actually learning about what I’m doing), I have been amused and amazed by the calls of the Gray Catbird. This one was singing in Bindertwine Park, Kleinburg, Ontario. They really do sound like wonky, half-crazed cats, though they can imitate other birds also. This photo doesn’t show the redish, chestnut-coloured “undertail coverts”, but some students at the University of Virginia have been studying Catbirds to see if undertail colour variations help determine mate selection. It’s impressive to see these migratory birds return to the greater Toronto area year after year — even though their habit in these parts has been mostly reduced to narrow greenbelts and roadside trees and shrubs. on the other hand, according to the Ontario Breeding Bird Atlas, Gray Catbird numbers have not changed significantly in this province over the past 100 years. Perhaps this is because the kind of habitat these birds prefer — scubby ravines, woodlot edges, etc — is precisely the kind of land that is usually unsuitable for development. So, regardless of how they choose their mates, Catbirds definitely have something to sing about.

We met this character a few weeks ago, but this is a much better photo IMHO. During a lunchtime walk, I saw him hanging around a storm pond — what I call a “Fear Factor” pond. He flew off into the trees a minute or so after I had taken some photos of him from the far side the pond. Luckily, he flew up into a tree that I had to pass on the way back out. When I stopped for a few more pictures, he was tap-dancing nervously on this branch, while giving me the Evil Eye, and then he flew back to his fishing hole after I passed by.

I had never heard — or knew I heard — a Mockingbird until a just a few years ago. According to the range maps, we are not supposed to get many of them on the north shore of Lake Ontario. But, in recent years, more and more of these birds can be found in and around Toronto. If they provide a little competition for the starlings and house sparrows, I say bring ‘em on! The story of the Mockingbird’s unfortunate rise to commercial fame, near extinction and subsequent comeback is encouraging.

As the name suggests, Mockingbirds are the iPods of the bird world: they can mimic up to 200 different bird songs and some individuals are said to be able to imitate mechanical sounds. In theory Mockingbirds should be easy to spot. If an army of birdsong seems to emanate from one place and you notice a large grey bird with long black tale, there’s a good chance, you’ve got yourself a Mockingbird. But, dim as I am, it took several months to find the character in this (exceedingly bad) photo.

Since the early spring, I’ve been hearing this one at the VIVA bus station at Yonge and Highway 7. He has been hanging out in the morning glare on the east side of the railway tracks, flitting between a towering condo and a giant Home Depot. I could usually expect to hear him happily singing away in blue jay, robin, killdeer, hawk and many other dialects, but I had not actually laid eyes on the bird. When I finally found him perched in the open today, he appeared to be serenading the condo. He was either trying wake the residents (something Floridians and Texans know all about) or was using the wall of the building as an amplifier. This is an extremely noisy habitat, so I’m inclined to believe the latter. As he was singing, a CN freight train was slowly moving down the tracks to join the usual cacophony of buses, trucks and construction machinery. That’s a lot of competition for a bird to have to deal with. And so, for sheer guts and a willingness to take risks in more northerly landscapes, the Bird of the Week “award” goes to… the Northern Mockingbird.