The road less cycled

As long as I’m on the Master Cleanse, and today is officially my first day, I’ll generally take it easy and be home more than I usually would. Today, I’m blogging from the familiar confines of..wait for it…my bathroom, waiting for the saline flush that is an integral component of the Cleanse to take effect. Earlier, I went for a short walk in The Field – the open expanse bisected by a headwater tributary of Downes Creek that lies behind our house.

It’s still snow covered, but all this rain has rapidly diminished the snowpack, so that now it’s no more than 15-20 cm. It was quiet and desolate, as the dominant sounds were the harsh cries of dozens of crows swooping from tree to tree, stopping to dive-bomb the two red-tailed hawks that were present.

Down by the stream, I discovered that we have resident beaver. We’ve never seen beaver in this stream before, though we have seen muskrat, mink, and otter on occasion. Today however, the tell-tale signs of beaver were very evident – several young trees, cottonwood and birch, were chewed through to a pointy stump at around knee height, and toppled into the stream. Also, several shrubs – red elderberry, Pacific willow, red-osier dogwood – that have been holding the line against invasive blackberry bushes  – had also been chewed through, probably to provide winter food for the beaver. I suspect these beaver may be the offspring of those down in Downes Bowl Park, having moved upstream in search of new habitat.

The property owners have spoken in the past about having to eliminate beaver because they were flooding the field. I hope this isn’t legal, as in a headwater tributary such as this, beavers could do so much good for the ecosystem’s productivity. Prospects don’t look good however; to date, the property owners have more or less had their way with the area, taking out a concrete dam (a move of which I approved, though there will be some erosion as a result), and putting in a new bridge over the creek, as well as clearing large amounts of streamside vegetation.

I’d post some photos, but my battery died as I tried to take some shots. I know that when I move, I’ll miss this place tremendously. It’s an ordinary piece of rural property, but to me it’s special.

I’m a poor excuse for a birder the last couple of years, and I can notice it when I do manage to get out in the field. My audio identification skills are rusty; I hear bird calls, and know that I should be able to identify the species, but it doesn’t come to me like it would have four or five years ago when I birded more frequently. Having been a birder since the age of 7 however, it’s something that’s ingrained in me, and not easily lost.

Yesterday I did make it out to participate in the annual Christmas Bird Count, an event I’ve participated in for the last few years. As usual, I covered Downes Bowl and then joined up with some other birders to cover Willband Creek. Time issues limited me to only two hours or so in Downes, which produced around 21 species in total; this is a fairly typical total for me in Downes, and better than I’d expected with the deep snow everywhere. I believe it beats last year when I only had around fifteen.

Highlights included finding all five species of woodpeckers: Red Breasted Sapsucker, Hairy Woodpecker, Downy Woodpecker, Northern Flicker (Red-shafted), and Pileated Woodpecker. Two large cedar trees sported a great find – three Flickers and my Pileated, all congregated in the same location. Finding a Pileated is always a thrill; they are such magnificent birds. This one was rather comical, as he made every effort to stay on the opposite side of the tree from me, so I would circle around, and the bird would look up in alarm and quickly rotate around the tree to disappear from sight once again.

In the marsh by the boardwalk were two Great Blue Herons, looking stiff and sluggish, as well as two Hooded Merganser, a few Mallard, and a Gadwall, not to mention a wooden looking beaver that I only noticed when I scanned the entire marsh with my binoculars.

I always hope for some owls in Downes, but rarely have any luck on count day. Today was no exception, but I did spot a Barred Owl very early the next morning while driving on Sunnyside Avenue. I stopped the car, got out and walked around right underneath the powerline it was perched, and it didn’t even fly, doing little more than swivelling its head around as I walked circles under it. Finding owls is always magical; it’s not uncommon for me to catch sight of a wraith-like barn owl swooping over the road late in the evening when I’m out driving around, for work or pleasure. Owls have such a strong presence, an aura, that surrounds them.

Later I stopped in at Stoney Creek, where I spotted a Ruby Crowned Kinglet and a Cooper’s Hawk, as well as two feeder birds, Pine Siskin and White Crowned Sparrow that would likely have been missed if not for the bird feeder. Then I joined David, Ted “The Goshhawk”, and Vincent at Willband, just west of Stoney Creek, where they were just finishing their tour of Willband. Willband was very dead, as the deep reservoirs of water that normally harbour thousands of waterfowl was iced and snowed over, and there was hardly a waterbird in sight. Highlights here were  a Rough-legged Hawk, a very similar species to the common Red-tailed Hawk, but lacking the red tail and appearing darker overall. This bird tends to move north during the winter months, and isn’t around these parts at all at other times of the year, unlike the red-tail. The Rough-legged was a life bird for me. Also here was a Northern Harrier, skimming low over the fields, just as we were entering our vehicles to head off.

All in all, a good count and an even better excuse to spend a day tramping around the countryside. My aspirations, after all, don’t amount to very much more.

Wednesday morning I woke up, as did most of us, to a blanket of white draped over everything. I’d read that a Northern Hawk Owl had been seen up around the McKee area early in December, so it looked like a perfect place to go for a holiday excursion – accessible by car and not something that would take up my entire day (I had to work and run some errands yet that day). I hadn’t, however, counted on this much snow.

Getting up McKee was a difficult drive; the snow was still fresh and it’s essentially one big hill. It’s called McKee Peak for a reason. If I thought the drive was difficult, finding parking was another story altogether, as all the roadsides were no more than deep snowdrifts. Eventually I parked, somewhat dangerously, on the shoulder but a little too close to traffic for my liking.

Open Woods

The hike itself was fairly short, but stunningly beautiful. There were “private property – no trespassing” signs everywhere, but I was fairly certain that this was in fact a legitimate mountain bike trail, so I kept on marching.

Perhaps marching isn’t the world. Galumphing might be more appropriate. Stopping and starting with my head pointed straight upwards, scanning treetops for owls. So far only the persistent din of a flock of Black-Capped Chickadees, and a Downy Woodpecker. Somebody had been here already this morning, as there were some partly snowed in tracks leading the way. Some fourty-five minutes in, I turned around, only because by now I was afraid that somebody would call a towing company over my park job, and I hot-footed it down at breakneck speed, knowing that in my desperation to find a parking spot, I’d probably pushed the limits a little bit. I really need a jeep.

On the way down, I decided I wanted a shot of snow-covered Abbotsford from the viewpoint on Mckee Road, which again necessitated the finding of a parking spot. This involved much driving and spinning and verging on getting stuck in snowdrifts, after which I gave up and and drove down the hill a ways and parked on  a sidestreet, from where I found a trail heading back up the hill. Halfway up this trail I found the following gem:

Giant Rhododendron

By the time I reached the top, heavy flurries had re-started and the view had disappeared. It hadn’t really been a view of Abbotsford at all; more Matsqui Prairie, but exquisite all the same. While there, I decided to visit the rhododendron grove at the corner of McKee and Whatcom. Not many people know about this patch; here there are 100 year old rhododendrons that were planted by Dr. McKee. They have trunks up to 60 cm across and tower over your head. I’ve never been here in the winter before; only in summer and fall. Neither have I ever visited the grove in bloom.

Inside the rhododendron grove

These rhodos are threatened by development; there are plans to develop either housing or commercial on the site, something I’ve fought against, but to date the city has only agreed to move one or two of these amazing plants, citing cost and previous decisions by council.

And no, I never did see the Northern Hawk Owl.