Rational Poetry

I never did make it to Long Point this past weekend.  Saturday I had to work, and a late night out spoiled my plans to rise well before dawn the next morning and make the two hour drive to the park.  So after sleeping in on Sunday I headed out to the Currie Tract near Campbellville, to see what I could rustle up.

Trillium and Dandilion

Currie is an excellent spot for breeding Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, Indigo Buntings and Scarlet Tanagers.  It was still just a touch too early in the season for the latter two, but there were plenty of grosbeaks chasing one another about and warbling in the sumacs.

Unlike Pine and Evening Grosbeaks (two finch species also found in Ontario), Rose-breasted Grosbeaks are members of the Cardinal family.  Their cheery songs are quite robin-like, though clearer and slightly speeded up.  As birds of the forest canopy, they are easily overlooked, and often the only indicator of their presence is a creaky, distinctive squik that reminds me of a Downy Woodpecker’s call.

Down along the trail, I came across a pair of Eastern Towhees foraging on the ground.  Although they don’t look it, towhees are actually very large sparrows (Emberizids), and they tend to be among their family’s worst offenders for skulking about in thick cover where one can never get a good view.  Apparently no one had ever told this to the male of the pair, however, and he seemed largely oblivious to me as he kicked up leaves in search of a meal.  Several times I lost sight of him as I followed along, only to have him pop out less than a dozen feet away along the path.

While in the area, I decided to check out a nearby abandoned swimming hole sunken into a slope of limestone where I knew a Prothonotary Warbler had turned up the year before (still an empty tick on my life list).  I spotted a Canada Goose quietly paddling away from me as I arrived, and idly wondered if his uncharacteristic silence meant that a nest was nearby, but as a quick scan of the pond didn’t reveal anything I thought nothing more of it.  Circling around to the top of the rock face, I noticed first one, then two, then twelve Painted Turtles sunning themselves on the windfall trees and old floating tires.  A pair of Northern Water Snakes draped themselves over the rocks by the shore, occassionally dipping their heads into the water to look for prey.  The larger of the two was a good three feet long and looked as big around as my wrist, although generally harmless (I’m an incurable arachnophobe, something that bothers me in principle as much as the actual phobia, but snakes I’m thankfully rather fond of).

While I was herp watching, a pair of Eastern Phoebes swooped down to paste beakfuls of mud on the rock face just above the pool where they were constructing their nest.  I was about to start another page of sketches depicting the acitivity when suddenly I noticed, right smack dab in the middle of the pond, the rounded form of a Canada Goose atop her nest.  Now that I knew that she was there she seemed glaringly obvious, and yet the brooding bird, with her head pressed low to the surface of the water, was so effective at disrupting what my brain would normally have recognized as goose that I had completely overlooked her for the entire forty-five minutes that I had been standing there.  I knew that she would not move so long as I was in the vicinity, and aware that her eggs might need turning, I left her and her mate in peace.  It’s surprising, the things you don’t see — even when you think you’re looking.