11 intrepid birders struck out for Serpentine Fen on a sky chunky with clouds, fringed pink with the rising sun. They were Terry (our group leader), Brian, Gabriele, Glen, Joe, Lidia, Louise, Margaret, Margaretha, Marion, Rayme, and, yours truly, Thea. We met at the parking lot—which has potholes the size of meteor craters—on King George Boulevard, where it flies over the Serpentine River.
At the outset of our expedition, the river was still with only a solitary pair of Mallards and a single female Red-breasted Merganser out for breakfast. Large flocks of Canada Geese wafted overhead, and the winter-bare trees fringing the waterway were haunted by the usual American Crows and Bald Eagles, mostly juveniles.
A little further up the river, we added Song Sparrows (flitting in and out the brambles), a Great Blue Heron, and a Double-crested Cormorant to the list, followed by some lone pairs of American Wigeons. Striking down one of Serpentine Fen’s innumerable bramble-choked pathways, we began seeing more garden and song birds, including Dark-eyed Juncos, American Robins, a Fox Sparrow (doing its signature shuffle in the leaf litter), Golden-crowned Sparrows, Spotted Towhees, and Black-capped Chickadees. We also heard what we suspected to be Kinglets, but, alas, they evaded our binoculars.
We came upon the barn where it was rumoured a Barred Owl had been the previous day, but to our dismay it was empty: or if it was there, it was tucked into the owl box that was nailed to the rafters at the far end of the barn. And so, instead, we satisfied our curiosity by inspecting the owl pellets that spattered one end of the floor to the other in a carnage of fur and tiny bones. There also appeared to be evidence of other wild animals at work—coyotes perhaps?
Back out in the open again, we spotted a female Northern Harrier patrolling the fen, and were teased by the chittering of Marsh Wrens, but they remained sequestered away within the desiccated reed beds. We also squabbled amongst ourselves about whether there were perhaps some Cackling Geese amongst all the Canada Geese we were seeing. I am convinced I saw quite a few of the former, considering their diminutive size, short necks, and stumpy beaks, which is particularly remarkable when they’re flying next to the much larger Canada Geese. So, Cackling Geese made my list.
Further on, we hauled butt up a viewing tower, from where we saw generous swaths of Mallards, American Wigeons, and, like little nuggets of cookie dough in a tub of Ben & Jerry’s Ice-cream, the unmistakable rust-colored heads of 9 Eurasian Wigeons. There may even have been even more. Two Northern Shovelers performed their usual synchronized swimming routine in the pond.
The Red-tailed Hawks were out in force in both the trees dotted throughout the fen and on the many steel pylons. Complementing the static buzz of the enormous power cables overhead were the electronic songs of Red-winged Blackbirds, and the more hysterical chattering of American Robins. With each new pond, we were able to add at least one new waterbird to our list, which ended up including American Wigeons, Mallards, Northern Pintail, American Coot, Buffleheads, and Green-winged Teals, of which one we determined to be a hybrid of the American and Eurasian sub-species of Green-winged Teal. It had the vertical white bar of the American, and the horizontal white bar of the European.
Back at the Serpentine River, we saw a flock of Common Goldeneye, two gorgeous male Common Mergansers, a pair of Gadwall, and—what I will argue to be—a lone Greater Scaup owing to its rounded head, which shimmered green in the sun (because the sun came out about an hour into our expedition). But further down the river, we saw more numerous flocks of Scaup, many of which were clearly Lesser Scaup owing to their steeper-angled foreheads and purplish head plumage.
What I learned in the Merlin bird app is that while Lesser Scaup’s heads may appear purplish or green, Greater Scaup is only ever green and never purple; hence, a positive ID on the Lesser Scaup. I still question at what point in their evolution these two ducks decided to part ways, and whether it was just to infuriate bird-watchers for all posterity.
With the sun lending its glorious light to our expedition, we were able to enjoy a good three hours out in Serpentine fen, with a final bird tally of 33, pending the identification of two unusually pale sparrows with unmarked bellies, which we saw feeding on some tree moss. Other birds seen (not mentioned until now) include White-crowned Sparrows and Glaucous-winged Gulls.
Thea Beckman
Photos are on Flickr
Delta Naturalists Society 
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