Indiana's so habituated to humans that he cannot be released into the wild. So instead, he's part of an education program that helps people understand why we shouldn't take birds out of the wild and into our homes. He and this female Great Horned Owl, Einstein, were part of an educational initiative at a small birding festival we attended this weekend.
Einstein was rescued as an egg when the tree containing her nest blew down. She was the first egg to hatch and the first face she saw was human. Bingo! Imprinted on people and therefore unreleasable.
The festival was held at Tommy Thompson Park on the Leslie Street Spit in Toronto. You know, that large city built of glass, concrete, and stone, to steal a line from David Byrne.
Glass, concrete, and stone. The last two at least abound at the Leslie Street Spit, a 5 kilometre peninsula jutting out into Lake Ontario in the city's east end.
For more than 50 years, as Toronto transformed itself from post-war colonial metropolis with small-town values to manufacturing hub to the centre of Canadian finance, it needed a place to pile what was in the way. Dirt, gravel, and rock from the tunneling of subways; concrete and asphalt from ripped-up and replaced sidewalks and roads; bricks and thick terrazzo floors from demolished buildings large and small. The port authority felt that the city's outer harbour needed a breakwater. The two needs were met with the creation of a peninsula, built entirely of this "clean" landfill. The Spit is a working landfill Monday to Friday, and is sometimes put to some rather suspect uses: early one morning last summer, the bomb unit drove down there to blow up a package, causing the windows in our house, 9 km away, to rattle.
On the weekends, though, the Spit is something else entirely. It's a lesson in letting humans know just how little we can control nature. We first got a taste of it when we went birding there on my birthday. I strapped on my nature-lover-meets-terrorist front pack, loaded it with gear and guides, and off we went.
That morning, we covered just a small portion of the Spit and racked up a decent 18 species, including a turkey vulture, which is rare there, greater scaup, redhead, and the hugely amusing bufflehead. It was lovely. There were so many song sparrows that by the end of it, we were actually sick of them. That's a sad commentary. This little fellow sang brilliantly in the dogwood.
There's a modest layer of topsoil on the Spit's thick base of construction waste, and a young forest of cottonwood, dogwood, and sumac has grown up on it, as have open grassy fields. A substantial wetland flourishes, full of both barn and tree swallows. In April, the tree swallows were setting up house.
The birds caught the attention of these runners, who stopped to see what I was photographing, broke into appreciative smiles, and moved on. A little natural interruption in their day.
This past weekend, we saw a bit of swallow love. This pair tried quite a while to make it work, and I'm not sure it ever did. Even nature gives nature a hard time.
This time of year, and in the fall, the Spit is a haven for migrating birds, resting and fueling up after or before crossing Lake Ontario. Year-round, it is home to 8 species of colonial waterbirds.
Double-crested cormorants, the largest colony on the Great Lakes. Eleven in the early 90s, now 9000. They are destroying the trees, but for years we destroyed them with DDT. Their resurgence has gone crazy, but unlike other jurisdictions, Toronto is trying to deal with it by behaviour modification rather than by culling. We'll see if that effort to contain nature bears any fruit.
Black-crowned night herons, which our birdfest guide Matt said reminded him of grumpy old men. I told him I was pretty sure I saw saw my Dad up there in the trees.
Common terns:
Plus great egrets, Caspian terns, herring gulls, ring-billed gulls, and great black-backed gulls. It's also a popular winter hang-out for owls. But migration is truly, truly wild. In just a few hours, we saw 41 species on the Spit. Many beautiful warblers, flycatchers, vireos, and sparrows. A common nighthawk, which we saw at 8:45 but our guide had see hanging out in the same spot 4 hours earlier. A safe bird, basically.
More orioles than I had ever seen before. Even at a ball game.
But this is my favourite picture of the day. Kelly looking off to the side for something she had heard while she lent her bins to a young mother who had brought her family out that day. There were several such families, mostly new Canadian. As I searched for birds, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kelly pointing here and there, handing her binoculars around, helping people see Blackburnians, chestnut-sided warblers, and best of all, a bobolink. The yellow warbler was elusive but when she declared that there was a "yellow thing" above us, everyone zoomed in and saw it.
Glass, concrete, and stone. Toronto is far more --and far less-- complicated than it seems. And the birds tell us why.
4 comments:
I guess nighthawks are common, but I've only seen one, sittin' up on the wire looking like a teapot, and I knew just what it was. What a peculiar posture. Also Kelly in a peculiar posture, without binoculars. And to think I was there when that girl caught fire! That was something to see.
For some reason I really like the phrase "Einstein was recued as an egg."
You goils are leaving me in the dust, but that's my fault. I did, however, score a Western tanager as a yard bird this week, as well as a great blue heron.
I liked that phrase too, Murr.
Imprinted birds....sigh. You'd think that a human imprint would be a dream to work with, if you're a raptor handler. But they are worse than the more "wild" birds. You NEVER know what they are going to do.
So, what's the story behind Indiana's name? From there, or is it for Indiana Jones? Where's his hat?
Whoops...that was me. :)
Great post, the birds, the new Canadians, what's not to love?
I'm still trying to shake the image your Dad up in a tree....
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