Dick Cannings: Birds and Books

Yesterday I cycled through the ponderosa pine forests southwest of Penticton with a group of friends.  There is a nice trail that winds up and down and around between White Lake and Mahoney Lake, generally following the course of Kearns Creek but avoiding the canyon (by climbing high above).  Most of it is in the White Lake Grasslands Protected Area (a badly misnamed piece of land, since it doesn’t include White Lake, nor any grasslands to speak of).  The forests in the first section have had a lot of thinning done over the past year, both for fire management purposes and to improve the habitat for the rare (and Endangered in Canada) White-headed Woodpecker.  The ponderosa pine forests throught western North America have been radically changed in the last century since regular burning by native peoples stopped in the late 1800s, logging took out the big trees in the early 1900s (in this area the lumber was mainly used for apple boxes), and active fire suppression starting in the 1950s.  Those three factors have resulted in a dense forest of young trees, quite a difference from the parklike stands of big, mature trees with an open understorey that was common before 1850.

I figured it was a huge long shot to hope for a White-headed Woodpecker, but I wanted to check a few owl nest boxes I’d put up along this trail in the late 1980s and hadn’t checked too often since the track was gated about 10 years ago.  The first box was hanging upside down, so I’ll have to go back with a ladder, hammer and nails to fix that.  Nobody answered the knock at the second box, but at the third box out popped a flying squirrel!  She took a quick look at us, then glided out, landing on the leg of one of my friends, ran up her back, then took off for another tree nearby.  I’m guessing it was a female squirrel, since most of the flying squirrels that use these boxes are females that build nests in the spring as a maternity home.  The nests are invariably made of hair lichens in the Okanagan, while the ones I find in boxes on the coast are built of moss.  In contrast, red squirrels always make their nests of grass in this area.

Most of the friends with me had never seen a flying squirrel, not surprising since the species is highly nocturnal.  I usually see them only when I check my nest boxes, where they are one of the commonest occupants.  I figure they occur in about the same numbers as the more conspicuous red squirrel, which is a species active in the day.  Flying squirrels are easy to identify, even when just poking their nose out of a tree cavity or nest box hole, since they have big brown eyes adapted for their nighttime lifestyle.  Once they’re out on a tree trunk, their wrinkly sides (which unfold into a large gliding surface when they jump), and long flat tail are distinctive.

Flying squirrels eat a lot of fungi, an important role in forests where fungi play a big part inthe growth of trees.  Many of the fungi, especially the underground truffles, are intimately involved with tree roots, helping the trees take up water and nutrients.  And flying squirrels make sure the fungi get spread around the forest.

At last we had two calm nights in a row, so I’ve done my two owl surveys for the year.  I organize the British Columbia-Yukon Owl Survey, so it would have been bad form if I didn’t get my routes done and all the other volunteers did.  Together, we cover almost 100 routes every spring, each of us driving forest roads in the night, stopping at preset points, listening for 2 minutes, and moving on.  My routes go through the White Lake basin southwest of Penticton and along the KVR trail north of Naramata, BC.

Northern Saw-whet Owl female looking out of nest hole in cottonwood, Naramata 2007

Why count owls?  Well, their populations are a good indicator of the health of forest ecosystems, but they aren’t found regularly on other broadscale surveys such as the Breeding Bird Survey and Christmas Bird Count.  The BC-Yukon owl survey has been going for 11 years now, and we’ve built up quite a database on the distribution and abundance of owls, though it’s a bit early to detect any population trends.  We’ve certainly noticed that it’s been hard to find Western Screech-Owls on the coast lately, but that’s a topic for another blog.

Two nights ago I drove the White Lake route under a bright half-moon.  The first part of the survey was quiet, but I finally heard a Northern Saw-whet Owl tooting away at Mahoney Lake, and then another squawking along the shores of Skaha Lake south of Kaleden.  I’ve had Great Horned, Long-eared and Western Screech owls along this route in the past, so it wasn’t a very diverse result; perhaps it would have been better had I done it earlier in March.  Last night, my son Russell and I drove the KVR trail north of Naramata under similar conditions with more heartening results.  In only 10 stops we heard 3 Great Horned and 3 Northern Saw-whet Owls, I think the best result ever for that route.

An unexpected bonus was a brief sighting of a weasel dashing across the track, still in its white winter coat.  The nicest surprise came after the survey, though.  We stopped along North Naramata Road where Naramata Conservation had put up some nest-boxes 2 years ago.  We scratched on the first tree with a box and a male flicker poked his head out–we’d obviously disturbed his sleep.  As we approached the second box, Russ saw an owl fly away from it.  We couldn’t see where the owl had gone so Russ climbed to the box and carefully opened the side and found 7 eggs inside.  Almost surely a Northern Saw-whet Owl, then, since screech-owls wouldn’t have that large a clutch.  We’ll have to go back and check during daylight to make sure!

(PS:  Russ did go back to check the box–it was a saw-whet–you can read about it and see a photo on his blog).

Small owls readily take to nest boxes, especially in areas that lack natural snags with big woodpecker holes.  Here are front and side illustrations of the boxes I use (make sure you throw a couple of handfuls of sawdust or wood chips in the box when you put them up–owls never add any nest material of their own!).  Click on the plans to see a larger image.

This morning I bicycled to Trout Creek Point on Okanagan Lake about 14 kilometres north of my home. Trout Creek is well-known in local birding circles for being the only place in Canada where you can regularly find Lewis’s Woodpeckers in winter.  When I was young you could find Lewis’s Woodpeckers in a number of places in the south Okanagan Valley in winter, and we tallied over 20 on some Christmas Bird Counts.  But the wintering population has dwindled to a single pair in this idyllic rural suburb of Summerland, BC.  They are still widespread in summer, so I could have waited until the migrants returned from California in May, but I was anxious to add a species to my non-motorized year list for 2010.

Below:  Trout Creek Point on Okanagan Lake, with Okanagan Mountain in the background

A year ago I hadn’t heard of the term non-motorized list, or NMT as it was cryptically called in the local birding email lists.  I had to ask naively what NMT was, and as soon as I found out that a number of birders in western Canada were actively tracking birds seen while walking or on a bicycle, I knew I’d have to give it a try this year.  The concept wasn’t brand new; Richard Gregson of Baie d’Urfé, Québec has been popularizing the “BiGBY” (Big Green Big Year) for some time throughhis website.  There is also aFacebook group that provides a forum for BiBGY/NMT enthusiasts.  Perhaps the biggest NMT birding effort yet was my friend Malklom Boothroyd’s massive trip in 2007 and 2008 to raise money for conservation and to raise awareness of the need to cut back on our consumption of fossil fuels.  You can read more about his quest on his blog, but the hard facts are that he cycled 21,144 km from June 2007 to June 2008 (starting in Whitehorse, Yukon!), saw 548 bird species and raised more than $25,000 for bird conservation.  I had done bicycling big days on 5 different occasions, but they weren’t true NMT trips, since I’d driven to a starting point then was picked up at the end.  While I cut my big day driving distance in half, it still violated the central rule of NMT listing–you can’t use any motorized transport and you must start and finish your walk or your cycle at your home.  And while many birders do it for the environmental benefits, I must admit that the big attraction for me was the possibility that it might actually get me physically fit for the long term.

So when I looked out the window this morning and saw a perfect spring day for a bike ride, I quickly saddled up and was soon cycling Highway 97 along the shores of a glass-smooth Okanagan Lake.  The water was dotted with Horned and Red-necked Grebes, some of them well advanced in molting into their colourful breeding plumage.  I spotted a pair of Canada Geese nesting atop a silt bluff above the highway, and a few Clark’s Nutcrackers called loudly as they sailed out of the pine forests, presumably coming down to the lakeshore for a morning drink.  When I got to Trout Creek I turned off the highway to explore the Lewis’s Woodpecker territory, a remnant stand of ancient cottonwoods the birds used for nesting, roosting, and storing their winter supply of nuts.  I could hear tapping and drumming all around me–unfortunately it seemed that every flicker in the world was in full courtship and nest excavation mode, so I knew I’d have to find my Lewis’s by sight rather than tracking down woodpecker-like noises.  I worked my way down to the mouth of the creek, where a big flock of Greater Scaup rested on the lake.  Bonus! There were 4 Western Grebes with them, a new year bird for me.  I cycled slowly back through the cottonwoods, quietly despairing that I might miss the birds again as I had last month.  But at the last second I saw one flying low overhead, its steady flight so different that the typical woodpecker bounce.  And then none of our other local woodpeckers have a bright pink belly, either.

Relieved, I spent the next while cycling north along the point, scanning the water for some other lucky find like a Yellow-billed Loon, but the most interesting bird I could find was a single mallard-sized Cackling Goose in a flock of its big cousins, the Canadas.  Satisfied, I hit the highway again and turned south to home.  My NMT year list is now 89 species (gunning for 200!) and, more importantly, I’ve biked, walked and run 501 kilometres in 2010.

It’s a rainy day in the Okanagan and probably as good a day as any to start my blog.  We haven’t had anything in the way of snow here since the first week of January, but this is our first good dousing of spring rain.  It hasn’t seemed to have dulled the spirits of the Great Horned Owls.  The male, roosting in the spruce tree nearest our house, is still hooting every hour or so throughout the day, eliciting a short answer from his mate, who is ensconced near the top of a thick blue spruce a few metres away, presumably sitting on eggs.  The California Quail, too, still go about their business, scurrying from cover to cover, flying into full on panic when one of the local Cooper’s Hawks (that’s one below!) cruises through the yard.  The Bohemian Waxwings seem to have left for the season.  Up until two weeks ago there were still hundreds in the neighbourhood, gleaning the last of the mountain-ash berries from local gardens, the trilling flocks nervously circling again and again before landing, then gone again in a whoosh of wings.  

The first migrants have returned from the south.  I heard the first meadowlark song on the last day of February, then within a few days there were three or more singing at dawn from the grasslands across the fence as they have for millennia.  On March 7 I saw a Turkey Vulture tilting on a warm south wind, back from Central America a couple of weeks early this year.  Then a Say’s Phoebe singing at the gravel pit, then a half-dozen Killdeer quietly feeding on the school field.  I expect the Violet-green Swallows will be next.

I’ve been waiting for a calm, dry evening to do my owl surveys, but Pacific storms have brought high winds to the Okanagan Valley recently so I haven’t ventured out.  The Northern Saw-whet Owls should be whistling away out there, and maybe I’ll be lucky enough to hear the bouncing ball toots of a Western Screech-Owl.

For those of you who are CBC listeners, I’m scheduled to be on BC Almanac on Friday, March 19.  One thing I’ll be mentioning on air is my new book–Flights of Imagination— an anthology of writing about birds.  More on that later!

Immature Cooper’s Hawk looking for quail