Cootes Paradise bird census underway
Peter Thoem rarely put down his birdwatching binoculars between dawn and dusk Saturday.
That’s 12 hours of squinting into the sky and treeline above Grindstone Creek — punctuated by moments of scribbling into a small notebook and occasional consultation of a not-so-small field guide on Birds of Eastern North America.
But that’s not why they call it The Long Watch.
“What we’re trying to do is build a database of birds,” said the veteran birder and former Burlington councillor. “You can spend a month birdwatching and at the end you really just have a snapshot in time. But do that over 30 years and all of a sudden you have truly useful information.”
Call it a bird census — and a long-term commitment. Thoem and about a dozen eagle-eyed volunteers are in Year 2 of what they hope will be a decades-long count of birds living or stopping over in Cootes Paradise and the nearby marshes along Grindstone Creek.
Biologists have long known the wetlands managed by the Royal Botanical Gardens a migratory mecca. The federal government formally recognized the significance of the protected wildlife area as far back as 1927.
Tys Theysmeyer, the RBG’s head of natural lands, figures Cootes is one of the Top 3 most popular avian stopovers on the Canadian side of the Great Lakes. “We know it’s important.
“We know anecdotally what kinds of birds can be found. But we don’t have
hard numbers,” he said.
That’s where the Long Watch comes in. Volunteers with the ambitious count hope to give the RBG searchable, quantifiable birding data that could some day help identify critical trends — such as population crashes for particular species.
It could also help conservationists decide which wetland areas deserve extra special care or protection, Theysmeyer said. The RBG is holding the data for now, but Thoem hopes volunteers will eventually be able to upload and review bird data on the web.
The effort requires a full-day count in spring and fall — but also regular treks along a network of wetland trails, several times a week in the summer.
It helps that it’s a labour of love. Thoem’s explanation of the mission is constantly interrupted Saturday by breathless binocular-aided discoveries on the horizon.
A red-tailed hawk earns appreciative murmurs from the five volunteers out that morning. Shoulders collectively slump as an uncertain sighting resolves into the alltoo-common Canada goose. A flitting blue jay sparks groans and laughter.
“It’s a blue jay day. We’ve seen dozens if not hundreds already,” Thoem explains as he adds up the tally in his notebook for the latest two-hour measuring period. (Yes, the bird count data will eventually be searchable by time of day.)
“Oh my goodness — a merlin!” someone exclaims.
Chuckling conversation abruptly dies as five pairs of binoculars whip up to the horizon, slowly moving in intensely silent tandem from left to right until the tiny falcon — identifiable to the non-birder only as a small brown blur — zooms into the willow trees overhead.
Bob Bell watches as intently as the rest. But he also smiles at the bewildered look of the uninitiated.
The recently retired geologist moved to Ancaster in part to be near Hamilton’s bird-magnet conservation areas. Bell recalls his first forays into birding with experienced watchers.
“You’d hear bird song and suddenly everyone freezes, and then they’re like ‘Oh, that’s a yellow-bellied so-and-so,” he said, laughing. “And meanwhile, I’m not even sure I heard anything at all. It’s a real skill … I’m still working on it, but I love it.”
What we’re trying to do is build a database of birds.” PETER THOEM, VETERAN BIRDER