Saturday, 13 April 2019

Early April is heating up!

Nature is waking up to the slow arrival of spring. Birds, butterflies and now even a few plants are showing signs that spring is well underway.

Not long ago I went up towards Mitchell's Bay. From Angler Line, I looked northwards and saw some extensive plumes of smoke. When the marshes and prairies of Walpole Island are burning, it is definitely a sign of spring.
From Angler Line
From Mitchell's Bay
Zoomed in from Mitchell's Bay
The smoke didn't last a long time, and certainly the prairies require regular fire to keep them healthy. When it happens early in the spring, before the reptiles and amphibians are very active, and before the birds have begun nesting, it has little negative impact on wildlife, and the plants will benefit immensely.

Earlier in the week I was at Rondeau. There is a slow but steady trickle of birds arriving. Along the South Point Trail I came across this Eastern Phoebe. It must have just arrived, as it was resting, with its eyes closed. It was right along the trail, just below my eye level. I could have reached out and touched it, but instead backed up so I could focus the camera.
 After a few moments, it seemed to wake up, yawned and started moving around. These photos have been hardly cropped at all.
The sunny day meant that frogs were making use of the warmth. Wood Frogs, Spring Peepers and Leopard Frogs were all in chorus.
Wood Frog
 Some frogs were even out on the roads soaking up the sunshine.
Leopard Frog
A quick trip to the Erieau area yesterday turned up a few swallow species. Tree Swallows are fairly abundant; at least they are by far the most common of all the swallows so far.
 Purple Martins are back. This one was on a wire and against a white sky, making photography quite challenging.
I also had a Bank Swallow in flight, and today I had a couple of Barn Swallows. Hopefully the weather doesn't turn too cold for too long to reduce the insect population these swallows depend on.

Horned Grebes are fairly plentiful, and are in all different stages of plumage change right now.

Canada Geese are well into the nesting cycle

Trying to look inconspicuous on the nest
Bald Eagles are well along in their nesting cycle as well. The adult here seems to be looking at something in the nest, which I presume means that there is one or more young birds in the nest.

Today I spent some time at Rondeau. The highlight of my hike along the South Point Trail was a Northern Mockingbird. It was right at the southernmost part of the trail. I heard some fairly loud chirpy/chipping notes that I couldn't quite place, and the bird was low in a dense patch of rose bushes, making it impossible to see. It eventually popped up and I could immediately tell it was a mockingbird, but before I got the camera focused on it, it moved farther back and out of sight. It is always nice to see one of these birds, but this wasn't even my first of the year. I had one on Jan 1 on the St. Clair NWA Christmas Bird Count.

I had at least 5 Red Admiral butterflies along the trail, but they were quite active and on the rare occasion one landed, they closed their wings up. Since I only had my 500mm lens and 1.4X converter on, it wasn't really good for photographing butterflies, and so I didn't get any useful shots.

Northern Flickers are fairly common.
 Pileated Woodpeckers are quite vocal.
 Hermit Thrushes are widely scattered.
 I got my first Brown Thrasher of the year.
 Rusty Blackbirds are declining. I saw 4 in a shrubby slough along Gardiner Ave. They used to occur in quite large flocks on their way to their boreal forest nesting grounds, but the populations have dropped drastically as they have been persecuted in their southern hemisphere wintering grounds. They are now considered a Special Concern species as listed under Ontario's Endangered Species Act. Hopefully they won't get to Threatened or Endangered.
As for birds in the park, it is no secret that the best news of the week is that the White-winged Dove has returned. I was on my way out to the park on Tuesday, April 9, when I got a message that Mel, the owner of the cottage where the bird has spent much of its time in the past few years, had seen the bird that morning for the first time this year. He got the word out to several birders....thanks, Mel! It typically shows up sometime between about April 7-10, depending on the weather. As I was heading to the park anyway, I stopped at Mel's place first and heard the bird. Mel was there and pointed it out, and I got several photos like this next one.
The big question is: will its mate that showed up late last year arrive this season, and early enough so that their attempts at nesting will be successful? Since it is a fairly long-lived species, maybe there is hope for a small colony to become established at Rondeau yet!

Upon leaving the park today, I had already decided to check out the flooded fields at the Keith McLean Conservation Lands. The high water resulting in flooded fields is certainly beneficial for various water birds as of late. The numbers of ducks are slowly declining, but shorebirds are showing up nicely. I had 7 species of shorebirds there on this visit, some of which were distantly visible from the road. I decided to park in the property's parking lot and walk towards the creek system, and follow it around to look at the larger section of the flooded field. I came across 27 Pectoral Sandpipers, 4 Greater Yellowlegs, 3 Lesser Yellowlegs, half a dozen Dunlin, several Killdeer, a Wilson's Snipe that flew over, and what I am sure is a Black-bellied Plover. Not a bad shorebird diversity for this date.
Dunlin
Pectoral Sandpiper
Greater Yellowlegs




Two Lesser Yellowlegs and one Greater
Black-bellied Plover

These plovers are a bit hard to separate from the American Golden Plovers at this stage of the spring, but I am going by where the dark feathering appears to stop on the belly, as well as the relative size of the bill, which is larger in a Black-bellied.

I also stopped at Shrewsbury before returning home, as I wanted to check on a small heronry in a willow tree about half a kilometre NE of the main dock and boat launch.

This is what it looked like in 2013, when there were at least 15 active nests.
There is now only a single Great Blue Heron nest in what is left of this gradually deteriorating willow tree.
April showers are being forecast for several days of this next week. I guess that is good news for the May flowers, and maybe even an indication of southwesterly weather systems that will bring all those migrants winging it back to Ontario. Stay tuned!


Sunday, 7 April 2019

Black Rail tale

Rails are always a treat to come across, and some of them are the most elusive species of birds in our area. It doesn't help that they occur in wetlands that are difficult to access, or at least see through. You've probably heard the expression 'thin as a rail', which refers to the fact that you can be staring through some of the dense cattail vegetation and all of a sudden a rail partially appears, and then just as suddenly, it is gone again, and you didn't even see the vegetation move. The birds aren't really thin, just really adept at getting through sometimes really dense vegetation.

 On occasion if you get a good vantage point and are very quiet, a rail might come out and spend a fair bit of time in the open, like this Sora did for me one time. It helps that it is probably the most common of all the rail species.
Probably less common, but still fairly widespread and abundant, is the Virginia Rail. Like all rail species, they are a lot easier to hear than to see. I think I've only photographed them on one or two occasions in more than 40 years but hear them regularly when I am in their habitat at the right time of year.


The rarest rail species that nests in Ontario is the King Rail, which is officially Endangered and protected by both provincial and federal legislation. It was never common, but restricted to some of the largest and best quality wetlands of southwestern Ontario. Nowadays, it is extremely rare, with probably fewer than a dozen or so pairs in the entire province. It is a difficult species to survey for, so we don't really know. It initially looks like a much larger version of the Virginia Rail. Even some of its calls are somewhat similar, although the King Rail is noticeably deeper and throatier.
 While the King Rail is occasionally heard in some of the larger marshes, actual breeding records are few and far between. Once in awhile one may spot a family of King Rails wandering along a dyke of a large marsh. But finding a nest is even less likely. I photographed this nest at McGeachy Pond Conservation Area, near Erieau.
The water levels there were not as controlled as they are now, and the habitat was better for King Rail. A photographer friend and I came across this nest and got some photos. This was back in about 1978, and as far as I know, that is the last time an actual nest was recorded in Ontario.

Yellow Rail is the smallest, regularly occurring rail species in Ontario. While historically they nested in some wet grassy areas in southern Ontario, if they do so now, observers are keeping quiet about it. The only place where they nest with any regularity is in the wet grassy areas of the Hudson Bay Lowlands, which are next to impossible to get to for the average birder. I was fortunate to have spent a couple of weeks in those areas on two successive years, conducting wildlife surveys in the very early 1990s. While I did not actually see a Yellow Rail, I did hear them on a couple of occasions.

Which brings us to the rarest and smallest rail in Ontario, the Black Rail. In my most recent issue of Birding magazine, which I get as a member of the American Birding Association, there was an excellent article on getting a youth nature club in Louisiana involved in trying to capture Black and Yellow Rails. It was supposed to be a special event to get young birders to see some of the rarest denizens of the grassy marshes, all the while helping out with the bird banding process. The article was quite intriguing, and reminded me of a very special time when I was able to hear, although not see, a Black Rail in Ontario.

It was during my years as the park naturalist at Rondeau Provincial Park. I spent a lot of my spare time roaming around the various habitats looking for things of interest, whether it be birds, plants, reptiles, amphibians or whatever. The Rondeau marsh was one of my favourite places at any time of the day, but particularly in the early morning or early evening hours when wildlife was more likely to be active.
The fluctuating water levels of Lake Erie, and therefore the adjacent Rondeau Bay and marsh, made a difference in what vegetation was dominant. For a few years in the early to mid 1980s, it was a time when Wild Rice, an annual species which depended on declining water levels and exposed mud flats later in the summer to grow well, was quite abundant. And it was in these extensive stands of Wild Rice where Soras could be quite abundant. I remember on more than one occasion taking a few small stones with me as I walked the marsh trail. Every once in awhile I would toss a stone into the stand of Wild Rice, and instantly there would be a chorus of Soras peeping. Over the course of my walk, I estimated on one evening that there must have been over 100 birds that responded.
Dense stand of Wild Rice along the Marsh Trail
It was the evening of August 17, 1985. I had walked the marsh trail and took the side trail over to Long Pond. The wild rice was not as thick there, but still fairly plentiful, and the water was quite shallow. All of a sudden the quiet evening was broken with "kik--ee--do, kik--ee", the distinct call of a Black Rail! That is all I heard, but the call of a Black Rail is one of the most distinctive bird calls there is, especially of any wetland species. You can listen to it here. I knew instantly what it was. Although I had never heard one in real life before, I had listened to recordings since I had been involved with a marsh monitoring program as well as been a regional coordinator for the Breeding Bird Atlas, where these recordings were available.

At this point, Black Rail had not officially been added to the Ontario Bird list. There had been reports, but none had met the criteria of any committee accepting records. The criteria were fairly stringent, as they should be. To accept a new species for the provincial list, the record should be well documented independently by at least two people, or there should be a specimen or a distinctive recording. The more evidence, the better. So although I knew that is what I heard, I was reluctant to report it since I knew it did not meet the criteria for acceptance.
Open water and Wild Rice along Long Pond trail
Eventually I did submit the record, thinking that even though it did not meet the criteria, at least the record would be in the books besides just my field notes and local records. After the bird records committee reviewed all of the submitted records, they reported on the outcome. Not surprisingly, my record was not accepted unanimously. It was a split vote. But at that time, people who submitted records usually got a summary of comments by committee members that decided the vote. While I was not surprised that my record was not accepted, I was both frustrated and amused at some of the comments. One of the most amusing, and in a sense outrageous, comments was "perhaps someone was playing a recording." I found this comment ridiculous for several reasons:
-I reported that the bird was about 40-50 metres away in a stand of Wild Rice. If someone was going to play a tape recording to attract rails, why would they leave the perfectly good trail to tromp and slosh through the Wild Rice a short distance away? Such noisy action would surely scatter any wildlife.
-the Wild Rice was not super dense, but growing on mud. If there was someone out there, they would have been easily seen at that distance;
-if someone was going to try calling for rails with a recorder, why would they be doing it in mid August, at a time when rails seldom call since it is after the breeding season? Calling in late May or in June would make sense, but mid August?
-if someone was going to try calling for rails, why would they play a call that only made the call once?

Nevertheless, such a comment by a committee member added to the debate about accepting the record or not.

Please note that the purpose of this part of the post is not to bash the bird records committee. Their job is to be skeptical, consider only the facts and weigh the information they have to deal with against the criteria that the committee has to work with. And they are human just like anyone else, so a committee will usually outweigh bias or a lack of reason in reviewing the many reports that are submitted. The members of the committee are absolutely some of the most knowledgeable and careful birders in Ontario. They should be congratulated for doing a job that requires a lot of knowledge and skill in analysis.

In retrospect, I could have included information that would explain the conditions and site specific circumstances so that this committee member's comments would not have been made. And I certainly recognize that by hearing the bird call only once, as distinctive as the call is, it was not enough evidence for officially adding the species to the Ontario list.

As much as anything, the purpose of this post is:
-to recognize that the committee members have an enormous task. Of course in this digital day and age, it is easier to get high quality photos and/or recordings of birds than there was back in the 1980s when most reports were only written submissions. But even at that, some photos just aren't clear enough (if only birds were considerate enough to be in those perfect lighting conditions.....), and certainly the written evidence is not always adequate to be 100% convincing;
-to encourage birders to make sure when they are submitting a report, to ensure that as much realistic detail as possible is included. The committee can only review what they are given;
 -to recognize that not all records submitted will be accepted, for various reasons. I expect that anyone who has submitted records, may have had some rejected. That is frustrating, to be sure, and in many cases it isn't because the bird was incorrectly identified, but the level of detail submitted may not have been sufficient for the committee to accept it. And let's face it, on occasion we may see a bird well enough that we are convinced of its identification, but because the observation was fleeting or some critical features were not noted, we can't include information that we didn't see or hear, and therefore the report just doesn't have enough convincing evidence. That is life, and that certainly is birding!
-it just so happens that today, April 7, the current committee met to consider the reports submitted over the course of this past year.

So next time you see one of the committee members, give them a thank-you for a task that isn't always easy.




Monday, 1 April 2019

Fire: the right tool or the wrong tool in our natural landscapes?

The fire season is upon us. Fires in natural areas, that is, and many of them are appropriate. I have been a long-time staunch supporter of the correct use of fires to maintain the integrity and quality of natural areas. Tallgrass prairie and oak savanna are two of the natural vegetation types that require regular fire for their long-term survival.

I first got introduced to tallgrass prairie and oak savanna back in 1973. The bits of prairie and savanna I got to know back then were at Rondeau Provincial Park. As my career unfolded, I became greatly involved in the vegetation management of a new provincial park: Ojibway Prairie Provincial Nature Reserve, within the city limits of Windsor. As a result, I got introduced to the North American Prairie Conferences, which were held every other year at a university or college in some US prairie state. Over the years, I participated in various ways at 9 of these conferences, ranging from Nebraska, North Dakota, Iowa, Kansas, Minnesota, Wisconsin and even Windsor, ON where in 1992 I was part of a team that organized and hosted the first conference to be held outside of the USA. The last conference I participated in was in Winona, MN. And over the years I have visited 114 tallgrass prairie sites in 11 different states.

These conferences were amazing opportunities to learn practical and scientific ways of managing tallgrass prairie, and associated oak savanna. Field trips were a highlight also to see the examples of some of the finest and best managed prairie and savanna habitats remaining on the continent. Researchers, managers and enthusiasts came together and generously shared experiences and knowledge about these incredible vegetation types. Invariably the role of fire was a major topic. And as the years went by, I became increasingly supportive of the need for the use of fire to maintain the prairies and savannas here in the areas I had some responsibility for.
 Fire seems dramatic and terrifying to the uninitiated, and it certainly is not something to be taken lightly.
However in just a few short weeks, the landscape takes on a new and lush look, with hints of the later season glory that tallgrass prairie is known for.


The use of fire became a sort of bandwagon for some land managers to climb on to. In the early 1970s, there were virtually no fires intentionally set in Ontario for the purpose of managing the prairie and savanna, other than on Walpole Island, where the indigenous inhabitants there knew the value of fire and used it to great effect. But elsewhere in Ontario, fire for the purpose of managing prairie and savanna was nonexistent. By the late 1980s and into the 1990s, however, it was not uncommon for a dozen or more natural areas to be put to the torch every year, mostly in the spring. Some were quite high profile, such as Stone Road Alvar on Pelee Island, the Karner Blue Sanctuary in north Lambton, Rondeau Provincial Park, Pinery Provincial Park, Turkey Point Provincial Park, and others. It was all done with good intentions, but as the years went by I became increasingly concerned that just maybe some of it was done for the wrong reasons. Just because some of the landscapes looked like prairie and/or savanna vegetation did not necessarily mean that the historical and regular occurrence of fire was the reason for their origin.

I became more and more convinced that there were other causes, and hesitatingly raised my voice in concern. Towards the end of my career with the Ministry of Natural Resources, the lead author of the proposed vegetation management plan for Point Pelee National Park asked me to comment on it. I did, and he was more than a little surprised by what I had to say about the parts that recommended the use of fire. And in the last year of my career, I gave a presentation to MNR's southern regional natural heritage forum entitled The Role of Fire on the Southern Ontario Landscape...has the pendulum swung too far?  I focused on three areas: Stone Road Alvar on Pelee Island, Point Pelee National Park and the Grand Bend to Port Franks region.

With all of that as background, I will next focus on the vegetation of the Grand Bend to Port Franks region.

Too often we take a brief look at the landscape and conclude we know why it is like it is, and what has to be done to manage it. Unfortunately, we seldom look at the history of even the previous hundred years or so, to determine what, if any, factors were the reason for what we see today. So in the case of the Grand Bend to Port Franks (GB-PF) region, I decided to look into some history.

There is clearly a lot of historical evidence that at the time of settlement, the GB-PF area was more of a pine-oak forest than a black oak savanna. But about 80 years of lumbering until the early 1900s changed all that.

In 1763 and again in 1775, the British declared all of the high quality pine and oak in many areas of Ontario to be retained solely for their shipbuilding industry, since all ships of that era were of course wooden. Pine for masts and oak for decks and hulls were never in plentiful enough supply for an island country that relied heavily on ships for its navy as well as for commerce.

This area of Lambton was owned and managed by the Canada Company, which was a British chartered land development company. In 1832, a fellow by the name of Brewster purchased a mill site from the Canada Company at the big bend in the Ausauble River, where Grand Bend is now located. The first governor of the Canada Company, Charles Bosanquet, stipulated that Brewster was to build a mill and a dam at the site, and the settlement that was established was to be called Brewster.

Port Franks, where the Ausable River outlets into Lake Huron, was one of the few decent ports along the shoreline, especially with its sheltered harbour that was up to 50' deep.
The upstream portions of the Ausable River meandered across the landscape in a general northerly direction, making a big turn at Brewster. At that point, the river turned and followed southwest through the impressive dune system, down to Port Franks.

There was eventually a change in the markets from squared timber and masts for the British, to sawn lumber for American markets. The Ausable River and Port Franks were instrumental in meeting those market demands for such high quality timber available from the sand dune system and in the general vicinity. In about 1850, Brewster reported that Port Franks was at one time a "prosperous centre of the lumbering industry based on the great oaks and pines of the primeval forest behind the village". In 1850 alone, Brewster, Pettis & Company harvested three million board feet of timber for the American market. Undoubtedly the markets lasted for more than one year, and many more millions of board feet were harvested.

In the early 1900s, the Hamilton Bros operated a sawmill at the west side of Grand Bend, and in 1910 they reported that they " cleared off what remained of the virgin forest along the lakeshore from the (Grand) Bend to Port Franks".

Piecing together the historical information
In the early 1800s, there were virtually no roads in this part of Ontario. Rivers were the main source of travel, and the Ausable River, at least for a ways upstream from Port Franks to Brewster/Grand Bend, was quite navigable. Port Franks, with a harbour up to 50' deep, would be invaluable to the shipping industry.

The sand dune vegetation between Grand Bend and Port Franks was covered with pines and oaks, right adjacent to the Ausauble River, making the timber readily accessible.

Due to the flooding in the upper reaches of the Ausable River believed to be caused by the Brewster dam and mill site, 'The Cut' was constructed, which eliminated the flow of the river through the Grand Bend area and was re-channeled in a more direct way to Port Franks. The map above shows where the cut was made, at the orange arrow. For more detailed information on the reasons and politics behind this cut, check out this link. This next photo shows the cut. It was taken just above the 'b' in Lambton Shores on the above map.

Port Franks became less important as a harbour, due to the sedimentation from the increased agricultural activity upstream, as well as the decline in the lumbering industry after the forests had been clear cut.

The lumbering industry was quite evident in this area, due to the high quality of red and white pine as well as oak. But here is where it gets a bit complicated. It is important to know that if the forest was an oak savanna, the timber would not have been nearly as valuable. Savannas have open grown trees, with the oaks having numerous large branches quite low on the trunk, as shown in the next two photos. They would not be as tall and straight as a forest grown tree, where the much needed sunlight is only available to those trees that grow tall and as fast as possible.

Where oaks are open grown as in a savanna, they aren't valuable for much more than firewood.  It is also important to understand that the impressive dunes of this GD-PF region were sandy, well drained and relatively sterile. The trees growing here would not grow quickly. The timber would be fine-grained and of exceptional quality, but they would be slow to grow.

By the early 1900s the remaining timber companies declared that they "completed clear cutting what remained of the virgin forest". As a result of the clear cutting there would be quite a lot of branch material, fine twigs and wood chips left on the sand dune. The dunal system can be quite hot especially in the summer, when exposed to full sun, which a clear cut would be.  This, especially considering the flammability of the resinous pine chips and needles left from cutting, would be conducive for periodic and likely accidental fire. After the occasional fire, there would be some germination of pine and oak seedlings. However pines readily succumb to fire, whereas oaks are more resistant. Over the decades, with periodic fire (and due to the xeric conditions and sterility of the soils on these dunes, it wouldn't have to be all that frequent), the vegetation gradually changed from a pine-oak forest into an oak savanna. Some pines may have survived, especially on the downward side of the dunes where fire would not have been as intense.

There is still evidence in existence today, of the clear cutting done about a century ago. This next photo was taken in 2010 at the Karner Blue Sanctuary, at Port Franks. As is often the case, oaks would have sprouted up following their harvest, and several of the surviving sprouts have become tree like. Some multi-stemmed trees have as many as 7 stems. I am not aware of anyone doing any aging of these stems via increment cores, but given the dry sterile soils, they are not fast growing and could easily be a hundred years old or more (I know of some oaks on the harsh parts of Pelee Island that were more than 125 years old, but were less than 15 cm in diameter).

What is known today as Pinery Provincial Park was known as the small 'p' pinery for decades earlier, indicating that pines were readily known. (If it was an oak savanna, would it be called an oakery?) And so after it became a provincial park in 1957, the first land managers realized that pines were important, and had been lost from the site due to clear cutting in previous decades, and actually began a pine planting program. By the early 1980s, however, the fire bandwagon was gaining momentum in natural areas across southern Ontario, and since the park's vegetation had developed significant savanna characteristics due to the past lumbering, it was believed by some of the park's managers that pines were bad and needed to be greatly reduced. Therefore great efforts were made to remove pines via prescribed burns as well as mechanical removal.
But it begs the question: what should the management targets of this provincially significant area be? Should it be to maintain an artificially created vegetation as an oak savanna? Or should it be restored to something closer to the pine-oak forest which is what it was like at the time of settlement? As significant as an oak savanna is, in reality a pine-oak forest of this make-up is probably even more significant, especially when one considers that it is probably the only locality in Canada where Red Pine, White Pine and Black Oak can be considered co-dominants in a forest, and certainly is one of the more southern locations for that on the entire continent. What is even more ironic is that for years, parts of this GB-PF area where oaks and pines dominate, have been an important refuge for the endangered (now extirpated) Karner Blue Butterfly (KBB). Indeed it has been a flagship species. The KBB is absolutely dependent on a healthy population of Wild Lupine.

But the population of lupine has to be in a good, healthy condition over the entire season, not just an early season flush. Lupine does much better over the growing season in a cooler, pine-oak vegetation type than a warmer, oak savanna. And that is critical for the KBB, as the larvae of the second brood of the KBB require the availability of lupine even in the later summer to survive until the following year. If the second brood is unable to survive until the following year, the population dies out. So in theland managers' haste to treat and manage this area as an oak savanna, they unintentionally contributed to the decline and eventual loss of this rare butterfly.
I have never seen a KBB in Ontario. I got this photo when visiting a site in Wisconsin in 2007.

The bottom line is that there have been some major disturbances on the GB-PF landscape in the last 150 years or so. Clear cutting on a sand dune system is very definitely a major disturbance, and the ensuing conditions have resulted in a major shift in the vegetation present. Ignoring these historical influences have resulted in land managers making decisions that may not reflect the natural vegetation type, but perpetuate this anthropogenic vegetation to the detriment of the KBB and other invertebrate fauna.

Should fire continue to be used in these situations? That is somewhat of a philosophical and ethical question. I continue to be a strong supporter for the use of fire in managing natural landscapes. But I strongly recommend it being used as a tool for the right reasons.