Birding Around Lac Seul

In late December of 2012 I watched a movie called “The Big Year” starring Jack Black, Steve Martin and Owen Wilson. I didn’t know it at the time but the 2011 comedy film was based on a 2004 non-fiction book written by Mark Obmascik entitled “The Big Year: A Tale of Man, Nature and Fowl Obsession. The movie plot (and likely the book as well although I have not read it) revolves around three people who are serious bird watchers (birders) trying to see and identify the most bird species in a calendar year within the boundaries of the continental U.S.A and Canada. Until seeing the movie I did not know that this was a thing!

Anyhow, I found the movie enjoyable and it got me thinking (and wondering) about how many bird species were in the vicinity of Lac Seul. I actually had never really given it much thought. Having lived in the area my entire life, I knew some of the more common species like blue jays, robins, ravens, loons, etc. but I typically used the generic term “dickie-bird” in reference to all of the other smaller songbird species that I couldn’t name. I did know that different water fowl species migrated into our area during the spring to take up residence on the local lakes for the summer but, other than being able to identify a male mallard, they were just “ducks” to me. Several years previously, I had set up a bird feeding station filled with sunflower seeds (and occasionally suet) for the winter season. It was enjoyable and entertaining to watch various birds that would fly in and then fly out, but I never really kept track of the different species that would come and go. So, as 2013 was just around the corner, I decided that I would attempt to identify 50 different bird species within a 50 kilometer radius of Lac Seul over the 2013 calendar year (coinciding with the year that I turned 50). I wasn’t a “birder” and was woefully ignorant of what I was getting into.

Black-Capped Chickadee (Parus atricapillus)

With a “Birds of North America” field guide identification book (Golden) at the ready and a blank birder’s journal for keeping track, I began my list of bird species. Within a week I had nine different species on my list. Some of these were the familiar and expected such as the blue jays and chickadees. However, other species previously unknown to me, such as the northern shrike (that I was able to identify but not photograph), showed up and cleared the feeder of all birds as the food source for a shrike is other birds which it kills and eats. Wow!

Accurately identifying and listing different bird species also required me to stop utilising the very broad and general categories I had resorted to using in the past such as “dickie-birds” or “those yellow coloured birds” (referring to evening grosbeaks). Instead I began using the proper names of the various species such as evening grosbeaks (yellow) and pine grosbeaks (red). Although distinguishing between different coloured grosbeaks was fairly straightforward, differentiating between a common and a hoary redpole was a much more difficult, if not impossible task for me. I didn’t know the difference between the upper tail coverts and the lower tail coverts on a bird. Heck, I didn’t even know what the coverts part of a bird was! I was in over my head or at least up to my neck (or was it my throat or nape?).

My state of confusion only increased when warmer weather arrived in mid-April and my number of bird sightings skyrocketed as the spring migration through and to our area unfolded. By then the list of my different bird species identified was at twenty-one (almost halfway to my target of fifty). This included witnessing on the 7th of April, when a thick layer of ice still covered the lake, the seasonal return of the first few “seagulls” to my area. Oh, pardon me. I should have instead written the word “gulls” because apparently the term “seagulls” (one that I had been using for over the past 40 years) is incorrect. Not only is the use of the word “seagull” incorrect for the purposes of bird identification, but there are least 3 different gull species that inhabit the Lac Seul area. Similarly, although “woodpecker” is the correct word for the general category of birds that have a sharp, strong bill for hammering into trees for insects, there are about seven different species of woodpecker that inhabit the Lac Seul area. Who knew? (I certainly did not).

Early spring arrival of Herring Gulls (Larus argentatus)

Further to this, I started to see a number of different birds that I was unable to identify. Although they had probably been making the annual spring journey back to the boreal forest on a regular basis long before I was born, their appearance was a totally new thing for me. Most of these “new” birds moved so fast, quickly flitting in and out of view between the branches, that making a species determination was not just difficult, it was impossible! My attempt to make a bird identification using the technique of brief observation followed by a rapid, frantic flipping through the pages of my bird guide book was just a futile exercise of frustration. I resorted to using my digital camera and instead tried to capture an “un-blurred” picture of the bird in question. I then downloaded the images to my computer and was able to slowly and methodically compare them with the illustrations in my bird book in order to make a species identification. While this did not always work out, it was by far more successful than my original technique.

One of the “new-to me” birds that I identified was a ruby crowned kinglet. I spotted this small bird on May 6th as its movements rotated between a brief mid-air hover and a rapid darting between the branches of several different coniferous trees. Obtaining a reasonably focused picture of this bird was not easy. Trying to acquire a close–up and focused picture of this bird (essential in order to make an accurate species identification) was an arduous task! Generally the colour of this small songbird is a dull olive-green with a prominent white ring that circles the eye. Only males have the red crown and it is mainly concealed, but in some instances a flash of red is revealed. Also, one of the most amazing things about this bird is its song that consists of a series of triplets that are loud and lyrical.

Ruby-Crowned Kinglet (Regulus calendula)

Ruby-Crowned Kinglet (Regulus calendula) revealing concealed ruby crown

I was also able to capture pictures of other birds that were probably regular visitors to my yard but to which I had never paid attention. These included species such as cedar waxwings and common flickers. In fact, despite my initial naivety, I learned that a wide variety of bird species either fly through or arrive back to the Lac Seul area every year as part of a regular spring migration. I also discovered during this time that Lac Seul is within the summer range of over twenty different species of wood warblers and at least twelve different species of sparrows. The combined total of thirty two potential identifications from just the warbler and sparrow category represented 64% of what I needed to achieve my targeted quest of fifty species. But, potential and actual identifications turned out to be very different realities. In the first case, warblers are small, move fast and are quite elusive as they mainly spend their time living within cover of thick branches and other vegetation. In the second case, the nuanced features that allow differentiation between most sparrow species at the time were (and for the most part still are) beyond my amateur level of birding comprehension. However, it did make me realize that I actually co-existed with an amazing number of different bird species in an awesome birding area. Regrettably, I was unaware of this fact for many years but at least now I was able to start paying attention and beginning to appreciate a whole new layer of beauty surrounding me.

In early June I embarked on a short birding excursion to look for an owl with my wife. She had heard the low but distinct sounds of an owl hooting on the previous evening while out for a run near a bush trail we frequently walk. So, the next day we set out at a brisk pace along a narrow, twisting path into the bush. Every couple of minutes both of us would abruptly halt, cup our hands and strain our ears to intently listen for the slightest whisper of sound that would reveal the presence of an owl. Initially, I positioned myself out in front (of course) as the expedition leader. However, after thirty minutes of determined walking, punctuated with regular intervals of intense listening at a dead stop, I slowly drifted behind and became the hapless follower of “a girl on a mission”. After another ten to fifteen minutes of hopeless pursuit passed by it appeared to me as if we were on a bit of a wild goose chase (or perhaps in this case it was more of a wild “owl” chase). Our initial walking speed had been reduced to a snail’s pace as we cautiously and carefully crept along, craning both our ears and our necks seeking out any hints of an owl in our midst. As more time passed, our movements were reduced to slinking becoming increasingly animated to the point of being comical. Sensing that our mission had become an exercise in futility I reached for my cell phone. During intervals of our stealthy ongoing start and stop rotations I awkwardly, but discreetly, managed to punch in my password, activate the Merlin bird identification application, fumble through the index and select a random owl species. I then pressed the button to generate a series of owl calls and held the cell phone behind my back. Hoot. Hoot-de hoot. Hoot. In an amazing series of deft moves that blended into one blur of motion my wife leapt upwards, spun around in mid-air, nimbly landed and grabbed my arm.

“It’s right behind us and it’s really close” she tersely informed me in a pronounced but hushed voice. Her eyes were wide with excitement and rapidly scanning the dense forest. I sheepishly brought the cell phone out from behind my back and into view just as the next barrage of owl sounds emanated from the speaker. The perplexed expression on her face lasted but a nano-second before transforming into a look that was much darker. I burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter so extreme that tears rolled down my cheeks. This only served to increase her anger and, as her dagger eyes stabbed into me, she pursed her lips and said to me in a scolding voice

“That’s not funny you know”. Of course, (and I am not sure what it is but) when a humorous situation unfolds and someone authoritatively uses the expression “that’s not funny,” the level of hilarity is automatically increased. At that moment, as if on cue, my cell phone emitted a few more owl calls. I fell to my knees and began to laugh even harder. You could say that I thought it was a real hoot. Still chortling, and with my knees weak from laughter, I struggled to my feet to catch up to my wife who had stormed off. I almost closed the gap when I called out

“Hey sweetie”. She turned around and glared at me but seemed receptive to my forthcoming apology.

“Who, who” I called out and then burst out into another round of laughter. That was it. She strode over and I was subjected to a brief session of exasperated pummeling. I was laughing so hard that I was unable to defend myself. Needless to say, I didn’t add to my list of identified bird species that evening.

By mid-July I had identified my 50th bird species. Although I was unable to get a picture, it was definitely a hummingbird and we only have one species of this bird in our area; the ruby throated hummingbird. After that and up until mid-November I was only able to add another five species to my list for an overall total of fifty-five. After reaching the initial target of fifty, my effort and dedication to my “big year” of birding seems to have dwindled because, in addition to working a full time job, I had many other chores and projects on the go that limited the time I could commit to bird watching. However, since then, my interest in and knowledge about birds has grown slowly but steadily over the years. In fact, I have been able to identify new birds, some that are not common to the Lac Seul area. This includes species such as the yellow bellied flycatcher and the willet. At times I am totally in awe, captivated by the variety of avian fauna that I am able to see, literally in my own backyard! The beauty of the natural world is truly amazing and available to all of us. We just have to open our eyes to it.

Yellow-Bellied Flycatcher (Empidonax flaviventris)

BlogsBradley HyslopMarch 26, 2022Lac Seul, Birds