Divers, Dabblers and the Elusive Great Lakes Harlequin
Hmmm, is it bred in my DNA to find delight in the company of avian friends?
Spring has officially arrived according to the calendar. Mother Nature typically does not pay much heed to our predetermined season start dates. But we are close enough now that I am beginning to mentally trace the footpaths of my favourite early spring birdwatching locales.
Waterfowl are the stock in trade for winter-weary birders like me as soon as the temperature lingers above freezing long enough for the ice to break up. My first outings of the season will take me to the sheltered bays of Humber Bay Park and Colonel Sam Smith Park.
The melodious yodeling of rafts of the aptly name Long-tailed Ducks will drift across the water to me as soon as I arrive. (Confession: Long time birders like me still secretly call them Oldsquaw although the field guides have long since erased that name.) They will be transitioning to their summer plumage – jet black neck and breast, white face patch and chocolate brown back.
Greater Scaup, black at both ends and white in the middle, will also be plentiful placidly riding the waves. As I scan the flocks, I’ll watch for the dark red heads of regal Redneck Ducks mixed in and cohabitating with their cousins.
On the edges of the larger flocks, frenetic little Buffleheads, easily identified by their half white and half black heads, will be diving and surfacing every few seconds with boundless and infectious energy. Spike-billed Red-breasted Mergansers will also occupy the fringes.
Here and there I’ll pick out elegant Golden-eyes – black head with tall peaked crown, distinctive oval white spot and the yellow eye after which they are named. Delicate black scalloping on the snow white sides completes their handsome attire.
In the inner bays, I’ll cross my fingers for majestic Hooded Mergansers raising their hammer-head crests – a three-quarter moon of white against inky black. Or the stocky, large-heads and brown flanks of the smaller Ruddy Ducks.
Closer to shore the dabblers will be feeding – bumb in the air as their head plunges below the surface. The ubiquitous Mallards, black-rumped Gadwalls, plain-Jane Black Ducks and sporty Wigeons with their buffy forehead and dark green eye swatch will all be on hand.
Turning my attention back to the outer bays, if I`m lucky a few White-winged Scooters, usually on the open water, may have wandered into the bays. And if I`m very lucky, one of the few stray male Harlequin Ducks, that choose to winter on the Great Lakes, may linger as its morphs into its unmistakeable, bizarre summer plumage.
The April accumulation of divers and dabblers, and elusive strays, on the shores of Lake Ontario is my reward for riding out another winter. They are a trusted metaphor for the comforting cycle of the seasons that endures in the face of so much around us that has become willful, unpredictable and seemingly intent on unsettling our hard-won peace of mind.
My name is Michael. I am addicted to birds and have no desire to be cured. Spring is coming and I fully intend to pursue my obsession at every opportunity. You know where to find me if you need me.
~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of “Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel” – double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog .
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