Nature Diary

Northern Oriole

Northern Orioles (also known as Baltimore Orioles) had been sighted in parks around the city for a week or so and I had seen several. They are easily recognized orange-coloured black birds that whistle pure notes from the treetops. I had been trying for days to get a clear photo of one but, shooting at a distance from the ground up to their high perches, all of the photos taken had turned out blurry.

Then one afternoon last week, stuck on the highway in traffic and losing valuable minutes of afternoon light, I decided to pull off at the next exit and look for a new place to explore nearby. The Don Valley Parkway loosely follows the Don River that I could see below; glints of sunlight reflected through the trees from its shimmering surface at the bottom of the Don Valley.

Soon I found myself at The Evergreen Brick Works, an abandoned clay quarry that had been reimagined as a nature sanctuary with ponds, hiking trails and, encircling the property, a high ridge that must have been the primordial banks of the Don River after the last ice-age.

Climbing the steep path to the top of the ridge, you could see the ponds of the Brick Works below and looking to the south, the far side of the wooded, horseshoe-shaped ravine. Closer-in to the lookout were the tops of the trees that grew up the steep slope of the ridge where you now stood. Orioles called from these near treetops and now you found yourself at eye-level with them. Finally a chance to get clear photos of these beautiful birds! I hope you enjoy the results; I think it was worth the climb to get them.

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Long-tailed Duck

These ducks have been renamed (from something that could give offence) to the descriptive, “Long-tailed Duck.” This new name, to me, is accurate enough but doesn’t do the rest of the duck justice.

They do have conspicuously long tails. But they also have distinctive, visually pleasing markings of tan, white, black and brown plumage, pink to reddish eyes and are the only duck to use its wings to swim underwater instead of its feet. Any of these distinguishing traits could also be the basis for a new name.

In my opinion they should be named after their call. It is the first thing you notice about them from a distance. They are noisy. Their call is pleasing; it carries a long way, up to a kilometre on a quiet day, and they never shut up. The next thing you will notice is the tail. But first the voice.

The debate then becomes, “what does their call sound like?” It is not harsh; it is not guttural nor rasping. It’s a lilting tenor of a duck call. My Audubon guide describes it as an “ow-owdle-oo” sound. I can see how they arrive at that and agree that it is a three-syllable utterance. But I hear the vowel sound as more of an a than an o. And the w is further back to my ear. To me, it is an Aur-aw-a sound. Therefore, and after considerable deliberation, my entry into the Name This Duck contest (had there been one - who makes these decisions?), would have been Aurawa Ducks or, Aurawas, for short.

That’s how I think of them anyway when I first hear them across the water and then look to see a raft of them out on the lake, in a loose circle, calling to each other noisily. You can’t see their tails from that distance but their voices tell you exactly what they are.

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Golden Hour

Golden Hour. The sun is setting, the clouds fill with colour and all around you the trees and meadows, cast in golden light, seem to be dramatically spot-lit against the dark trees in shadow behind them.

It has been a three-hour hike and you’re tired and hungry; you’ve battled clouds of insects, a short downpour and long stretches of trail where nothing seemed to be happening. But you have also enjoyed some incredible moments with the wildlife that found you.

As you retreat from an afternoon in the fields and marsh and thickets you know that your walk has been as good for your head and heart as much as for your legs.