Delta Naturalists Society

The seasonal weather continued its epic sulk over much of the Fraser River Delta as nine birders arrived at the lushly-forested Joe Brown Park in Surrey.  They were Marion, Gabriele, Rosemary (mother dearest), Margaretha, Mike—who had brought along Sean (a birding enthusiast) who had only just arrived from the UK—and, finally, Colin and Stephanie, who materialized like forest sprites among our group soon after we hit the trail.

As soon as we struck into the park, we traded the drizzly gloaming of spring for a most spectacular display of avian fauna.  It was an outing that tested our knowledge of bird calls more than anything else, and were it not for Marion’s extensive knowledge and my extensive abuse of the Merlin app’s Song ID function, our final list would have been substantially shorter.

Along the first section of winding, leaf-littered paths—fragrant with damp foliage and exuberantly budding and blooming trees—we heard and saw Yellow-rumped Warblers in their dozens; with Orange-crowned Warblers, Black-throated Gray Warblers, and Townsend’s Warblers thrown in. And just when I grew complacent, assuming every warbler-sized bird to be yet another Yellow-rumped Warbler, OH LOOK, it would be a Wilson’s Warbler or something equally as intriguing.  (30 Minutes in and we had FIVE warblers on our list, and not just through sound ID, but also through visual.)

Colin and I tracked down a Downy Woodpecker through its insistent rapping, and not long after that, a lower-pitched drum from elsewhere on high had us wondering if there was a Hairy Woodpecker in the mix, too (or if perhaps the tree it was drilling was of a different density).  Unfortunately, we didn’t see it then to confirm our suspicions, but the aural cocktail of warblers—as well as Golden-crowned Kinglets, Black-capped Chickadees, Song Sparrows, Pine Siskins, and particularly numerous Brown Creepers—soon distracted us from any disappointment.

Exiting the forest, we came upon a generous field, which offered up a small flock of White-crowned Sparrows, a murder of American Crows, and a round of American Robins (yes, that is the legitimate collective noun for robins).  We continued to hear and chase Townsend’s and Black-throated Gray Warblers here too.  A Cooper’s Hawk burst from a tree to relocate somewhere away from our prying binoculars.  We also learned that young robins make thin, high-pitched wheezing sounds (or perhaps, upon reflection, we were actually hearing Dark-eyed Juncos?)

Further on down the gravel road, the song of House Finches and American Goldfinches lit up my Sound ID app like a Christmas tree.  Making a right-angled turn down a lush path, we chased the call of a Pacific-slope Flycatcher and, at a bridge over a viridescent and cavernous gully, we were rewarded with a lovely sighting of the little bird, with its yellow-washed plumage, white tear-drop eye, and subtle yet spiffy crest.  Behind us, a female Rufous Hummingbird collected spiderwebs for her nest.

On the way back to the main path, we heard Purple Finches high up in the Douglas Firs (the theme of this day really was aural ID and its essential role in spring birding).  We continued down the gravel path, deeper into the woods, bird song keeping us ever vigilant for the quarry we had now turned our attention to: Western Tanager, the call of which is pretty similar to that of the American Robin, just a little more staccato and less melodious.

We knew they were about—we could hear them—but the insistent trills of Pacific Wrens and liquid song of American Robins kept throwing us off the scent.  Thankfully, yet again, Marion’s keen ears sought out a bright yellow male, resplendent with crimson corona (can I say that or is it a dirty word now?) and we were all treated to a wonderful view.  So wonderful, in fact that I forgot to mention that right before the tanager, Colin spotted a Barred Owl in a tree.  Could this day get any richer?

The answer is YES!  Colin and Sean spotted a Hairy Woodpecker, and a mere stone’s throw from that, a Pileated Woodpecker!  In fact, it was while looking for the former that we all saw the latter.  And it was while swooning over the latter that we (or at least Colin and I) saw a Varied Thrush flying into the upper boughs of a nearby tree.  There was also a Spotted Towhee, but who cares?  (Just kidding … too much excitement.)

Out in the (relative) open again, a male Anna’s Hummingbird perched atop a dead bramble thrust skywards in defiance against spring and chiselled away his song, while flashing his iridescent rose-pink throat feathers.  A Golden-crowned Sparrow made a brief appearance before disappearing into the undergrowth and, back at the field where we saw the Cooper’s Hawk, a pair of Dark-eyed Juncos sifted through the dewy grass.

We were nearing the end of one of my favourite days of BC bird-watching ever, and in an attempt to see the vireo that was spotted the previous day, we followed a few meandering paths but to only one avail: we finally saw a cheeky little Chestnut-backed Chickadee.  Two European Starlings on the drive out and our list total for the day came to 35.

Other birds seen (from scanning the skies at frequent intervals) included a Mallard Duck, four Glaucous-winged Gulls, and a couple of Northern Flickers.
Thea Beckman

Photos on flickr

Thea’s eBird list.