Glimpses Of Terns

IIII ) llllllllllllllllllllll Dark Forest (8May10)

1101 Pitsiiksiinaikawaahko - I assume this will be the last time I see snow on the ground here for the season. We're at the end of matsiyikkapisaiki'somm, and what little remains are narrow strands of drift that will likely melt away by day's end. But the chill is not far gone, and the poplars of the floodplain below still have yet to leaf-out

1118 Its colder here than I thought it would be, and more windy. Very good thing I had a light jacket and toque in the back of the truck. As I start winding my way down the coulee slope, a great blue heron passes overhead, moving toward the river with slow, heavy wing beats

1122 So far, it seems that very little has changed among the plants since last week. The yellow flowers of musineon, dandelion, and buffalo bean are still out, some a bit dulled from the recent freeze

1136 I stop off at the rattlesnake den, but it's just too cold, none of them are up and around. Even the black widow at the one entrance is missing today. I rattle a strand of her web lightly with a stem of dry canary grass, but she doesn't hazard out to check it

1148 Almost to the bottom of the slope, I finally come across my first critter of the day... critter being a very small animal, in this case an apanii larva of some kind. It is slowly worming its way over some dark soil, and as I watch it begins moving down a hole just its size. While it works its way into the earth, a miniscule beetle happens by, so I direct my attention toward it, and when I look back at the larva, it's almost all the way under

1155 At this point, I decide to unearth it, to see if there is anything interesting underneath. There's not, as far as my eye can see. But when I touch the larva, it curls itself into a ball, secretes green fluid from its mouth, and waits for me to go away. I in turn decide to challenge it to a game of patience. While it lays curled, I begin lifting nearby rocks in search of other members of the micro world. The first rock I turn has a pocket of narrow, yellowish eggs under it, almost like rice seeds. I take a couple to hatch at home. Now the larva is on the move, and I shift my gaze back to it. As before, it is searching for an entrance into the subterrainean, and eventually settles on a decent fissure in the soil

1230 After this initial critter encounter, I figure I'll go check in at Grampa's. Grampa is one of the (if not THE) oldest cottonwood in this floodplain. All around his massive trunk are old limbs and strips of bark as wide as most trees. I lift a few of these to see who's around, and am pleased to find that the hairy caterpillars I'd been watching all winter are now becoming chrysalis's. None are fully formed yet, but perhaps by next week they will be, and I can take one home to await the transformation inside, and finally learn their identity

1236 There are also a few spiders around Grampa's place, all of whom I photograph. And I notice that one of the mint plants is sending up shoots and leaves

1300 Heading now to the kakanottsstookii nest, I swing past the Twins (a pair of young, narrow-leaf cottonwoods surrounded by elders) to see if they're leafing yet... they're not. Then, entering the mid-forest meadow, a family of mule deer bounce off toward the river and, when I look up at the nest above, I find the two fluffy owlets appear to be developing just fine

1325 For some reason, the forest seems darker today, not threatening, just less inviting. There's a strange warmth rising from the ground. An entire tree comes crashing down loudly, not far from the deer trail I'm following. There are very few birds singing. And where I sit down on a log to eat my lunch, I see not two meters away the remains of a dead porcupine. The last time this forest felt like this to me, there was a black bear visiting, and I'd seen a badger patrolling the river

1341 I decide to leave the forest proper, and travel instead the flood channel that defines an edge zone between the forest and the rabbit willow groves. No sooner to I drop down into this corridor than I hear the chorus frogs chime up at its far end. And on the ground, between the old, wintered leaves, I see little, brown, cone-shaped to flat mushroom caps

1405 My path along the flood channel takes me in an arch around the forest, past dense rabbit willow, and eventually among clumps of diamond willow. I've not given up on my objective of several weeks running, to spot the first returning sapsuckers of the season. But again, it's not to be. Who I do encounter along this route today are the flickers, mourning doves, starlings, downy woodpeckers, robins, and snorting, upset whitetail deer. I also find the first leaves of silverweed rising from the earth, and photograph a massive fly, with green face and black, furry abdomen, sitting on an old, fallen poplar stem

1430 Rather than continuing to follow the channel through its bulberry zone, once past the diamond willow I move up onto the sagebrush flats and cross over to the coulee slope. I begin my ascent here at a badlands formation, wanting to learn what fossils might be exposed here. What I find are small mussel shells remnant from the ancient sea

1449 The rest of the climb above the badlands is pretty arduous. The incline is steep and the ground is muddy from the thaw. To make matters worse, it begins to rain, and I suddenly become very grateful for the anchorage offered by skunkbrush sumac, because the pricklypear cactus does not provide much assistance

IIII ) lllllllllllllllllllllll Glimpses Of Terns (9May10)

1636 Sspopiikimi - Mahoney and I are here for our regular visit again, on this somewhat cool but sunny afternoon. The turtles are basking, so clearly the serious chill is gone

1641 Right off the hop, before we even get to the edge of the pond, we cross paths with a thatching ant who's hauling a section of grass stem about six times its size. We watch where it's headed and notice a disk of grass growing fuller than that surrounding it. And peering into this grass, we find the thatching nest. Thousands of members of this colony are out on the surface, including many of the winged ones

1656 As we inspect this hive, I see glimpses of a large bird hunting at the pond, maybe a harrier. It's hard to tell from what little I see of it, focused as we are on the ants. A few people passing by stop briefly to ask what it is we're examining, but walk off quickly when they learn it is "only" these common ants

1702 By the time we move on ourselves, the bird I glimpsed hunting is gone. That's fine. There's other things happening north- and midpond. Right where the trail from the parking area meets that which circles the pond, there is a pair of robins acting suspiciously interested in one of the golden currant bushes. They do not fly far, even when we approach them, but we see no nest there yet

1709 On the ground near the currants are about a dozen dandelions in bloom, and there are two different bees pollinating them, a hunt's bumblebee and a very small plasterer

1712 The north coot couple are feeding midpond, and there are two goose couples sitting here on our shore. As we approach, they enter the water, and we see that one of the couples is either the Triplet or Big Island families. They have five goslings - one more than the Triplets had yesterday, one less than the Big Island couple. We will only know what happened here for sure when we find the other family

1715 South-pond is hopping as usual. As we move in that direction, we pass the nesting Canal mama, and there's a goose pair (or possibly family) in the subpond. Then, from the bench above the peninsula, we see the Small Island mama is still incubating. There are two other non-nesting aapsspini couples here, one of whom is now occupying and defending the big island. And of course there's the Marsh couple

1718 As for south-pond ducks this evening, from our position at the bench we can see the two male mergansers along with one redhead couple sitting beside the small island goose nest, there's a cinnamon teal and mallard couple in the near shallows (where a kingfisher is poised, chattering and hunting), and on the main water are two blue-wing teal drakes and one blue-wing teal couple

1724 The water has risen considerably over the past week, which is probably good news for the redheads and others who are planning to nest among the reeds of the marsh. The male chorus frogs are chiming up briefly in the shallows and subpond. A male shoveler just swam into view, following the edge of the wet-meadows. And the Small Island mama is being accompanied by her gander to feed on the golf greens, making a lot of noise on their way as usual

1752 The sight and sound of small birds flittering about in the bulberry and currant patch above the peninsula is inviting enough to compel us into this tick zone. The source, we quickly learn, is a host of myrtle-coloration, yellow-rumped warblers. In addition, we see some of the mountain cottontails that draw so many ticks to this local, and a porcupine, who quickly climbs the only cottonwood here when it hears us coming

1812 Rather than climbing the levee-walk, we follow the water's edge around the south-pond shallows. There's plenty of redwing blackbirds here now of both sexes, but it's been a week or so since we saw any yellow-headed blackbirds. I'm surprised as we get near the forested side of the shallows to find a morel mushroom popping up through the grass. It's the first of its kind I've seen here ever, and though I'm tempted to take it, Mahoney reminds me that we never collect anything when there's only one

1817 Unfortunately, the freeze of last week has done considerable damage to the asparagus plants. All but the most recently emergent shoots are now soggy and drooping, a result of ice crystals shattering their tissues from the inside

1823 It looks like the swainson hawk couple is back. As we sit on the cutbank beside the blind, we see them glide in, screaming overhead. Then one of them swoops down into the trees and lands on the remains of their nest, the same one the Subpond goose mama so recently occupied. This hawk lands and begins to chatter, then perches for a time on one of the limbs close below

1851 Our next area to explore is the wet meadows, seeing as how we haven't been through here in a week or more. We stay clear of the nests we know of, and begin searching for those we don't

1858 The wet meadows is really living up to its name, now that the water is so high. Despite not having heard them for a while, there are yellow-headed blackbirds here. By the subpond we see two males shoot past us in succession

1920 We follow the yellow-heads to the cattail marsh beside the old midpond goose nest. One of the coots is here, and it makes me wonder if the pair who usually nest south have got something in the making in this marsh instead

1934 Having stood among the blackbirds for a time, I suggest we make our way to the forest for a sit down break on one of the logs. Besides, I'm curious about what the robins and mourning doves are doing in the underbrush

1956 A snipe is flying circles above our end of the forest, in display. While Mahoney rests her legs, I scout around the brush for new nests. As far as I can see though, there are none yet. Probably they're waiting for the trees to take leaf

2011 Somehow, we have missed our other resident goose family entirely, but Mahoney's joints are beginning to stiffen in the chilly evening air and it's time for us to go. As we hike up to the levee walk from the forest, we spot the same large, white bird soaring over north-pond as was here when we first came in. This round, we got a better look at it, though not good enough. It's definitely not a harrier or osprey. It's a tern. And from the size of it, I would guess it's one of the caspian terns who would sometimes hunt here in the early evenings last summer

2040 As kind of a nice conclusion to our night, two members of the ksisskstaki family came to feed on the cutbank beside our trail. Staying quiet, they felt comfortable enough to come very close, and when they did feel safer going back to the water, it wasn't with any of the irritated tail-slaps

New Marsh Nest

IIII ) lllllllllllllllllllll New Marsh Nest (7May10)

1827 Sspopiikimi - here with Mahoney for an evening of natural therapy and learning after a long day indoors

1831 Walking in at north-pond, right away the triplet couple is swimming past, still with Miracle (slightly larger and a bit more pale than the other goslings) in their family group. The subpond couple, Miracle's biological parents, are here as well. Contrary to various adoption and abandonment theories we've come across, they are not at peace with the arrangement. They're following the family, and we just witnessed the subpond gander fly over to land practically right on top of the goslings. Mama triplet gave him a sharp whack with her wing, then papa chased him away. The gander returned to his wife and the two of them are back to following the family at a distance

1842 One of the north-end coots is way out toward midpond alone, which suggests to us that it is the male, and that his hen (unseen) is sitting her nest in the reeds. Again I feel compelled to bring my waders soon, perhaps over the weekend, to see what she's got

1846 Between north-pond and the ksisskstakioyis there are two aapsspini couples (one on our shore and the other on the wet-meadows), as well as a lone goose we figure as the protester from yesterday, possibly the grown gosling of the canal couple's brood from last year

1854 The goose couple on our shore proves to be the big island nesters. When we approach, the mama stands and there are six goslings under her... one more than what we counted yesterday when we only got a glimpse from a distance

1857 The canal couple are still on their nest number two for the season. Beyond them, out into south pond, the small island nesters are continuing incubation and there are seven additional goose couples spaced around the wide expanse. This is more than we are used to seeing. As the eggs hatch, much of the pond is becoming a neutral zone, welcoming to non-breeding and nest-failed aapsspiniiksi to move over from the river. The big island itself, though, is now up for grabs, and it must not be too late in the game for some couples to start over, because we are witnessing a few battles over this space

1902 From the bench above the peninsula, looking over south-pond and counting ducks, both redhead couples are here diving, there's a lone shoveler drake, a lone blue-winged teal drake, and a blue-winged teal couple. Another female duck just flew in and landed quite a distance from us, behind the islands. The shoveler drake has started giving little quacks, so we suspect it is his mate. She comes nearer to him, but then paddles away on her own toward the wet-meadows. The mallard drake belonging to the nest by the blind is also here, closer to the shallows

1917 Hiking around south-pond via the levee-walk, we hear chorus frogs and red-wing blackbirds. A conspicuous absence is the sound of house finches, which we haven't heard for a while. They must be nesting. And speaking of such things, we believe we've just spotted a new goose nest in the marshy shallows, with a gander concealed in the reeds along one of the beaver canals. I'm going down to check it out

1931 It is a new nest! And a really beautiful one at that. This goose, hereafter to be called the marsh mama, has woven a perfectly symmetrical, down-lined, round platform of bulrush stems, cupped in the middle to hold five eggs. No telling if we've overlooked it on our daily passes along this trail. I doubt it. And her gander is not the one in the reeds, who flies away when I approach. Rather, he is another, standing on one of the island mounds below the blind, where we've previously seen this pair together. I’d say this nest is no more than three or four days into incubation

1937 This marsh couple is not defensive at all. The goose lays low as I approach, with her husband watching from a distance. When I get close, she flies to him. Then the two walk over and proceed to feed along the bank of the levee. I've rejoined Mahoney now, and we are waiting to see them return to the platform. They make one fly-over to ensure the area is safe, then come to a landing to inspect their eggs. All in all, the goose was away for ten minutes, a typical feeding stretch

2005 Our next stop is at the blind, where we survey for new asparagus shoots. There are plenty coming up, but most of them are too short yet, and we always leave a couple good shoots to perpetuate the older, most productive plants. We collect a few fat, juicy stalks and go on our way

2022 Walking through the forest, we see the female flicker exit from her new nesting cavity high in the poplar snag that she was working yesterday. She goes to sit on another tree within sight, expecting us to pass. We decide to wait her out though, and almost as soon as we've settled on the idea, she returns and climbs back in. She must be setting down eggs

2036 Before leaving the forest, we sit on a log and listen to the hoo-ing of resident mourning doves, who we suspect will be nesting soon. As if to confirm this, a pair comes swooping in and out of the canopy above us, a mating chase

2042 Moving up to the cutbank overlooking the river island, we see both aapsspini mamas visible from this shore are sitting on their nests. We know that the downriver one has at least one gosling. The log-nester upstream should have hatched by now too. Probably they are both still using their nest sites as places to sit and keep their babies warm. The Sun passed over the horizon of the coulee rim about a half hour ago, and the temperature is dropping. We’re heading home

The Adoption Of Miracle

IIII ) llllllllllllllllllll The Adoption Of Miracle (6May10)

0735 Snow and more snow in the final quarter of matsiyikkapisaiki'somm, the last winter moon. All the new-age, borrowed medicine wheel concepts crumbling like the cutbanks into our swollen river. Think I'll go visit the pond

0930 Sspopiikimi - As we pull in at the parking area, we can already see the first presence of interest, a large bird perched up in one of the cottonwood snags by north-pond. Mahoney guesses that it's paahtsiiksiistsikomm, mistaken-thunder, the osprey. And when we walk down the path in that direction and use our telephoto lens to snap a picture, her suspicion is confirmed

0935 We're not the only ones who've noticed the osprey. Up on the levee-walk between north-pond and the river, there's a man standing with a pair of binoculars. When he comes down off the levee, the bird takes wing

0937 As usual with these ospreys, it doesn't waste energy in a simple retreat. Instead, paahtsiiksiistsikomm uses the opportunity to survey the pond waters for pike. It glides along high over the surface, hovering briefly here and there, then continuing south

0938 When it is nearest our position, and stops to hover, we look down at one of the ksisskstaki canals below it, and there see four ducks weaving between the bulrush hummocks. There is a pair of cinnamon teals, a single cinnamon teal drake, and a lone blue-winged teal drake. The osprey's not interested in them, it's a fish eater. Soon it glides out toward south-pond, hovers at a few more spots, then sweeps back past us to land in a tree in the forest beside the levee-walk, where the man with the binoculars had originally been standing

0942 The man, it turns out, is Ken Orich, one of the regular birders who visits Sspopiikimi. We've bumped into Ken on several occasions in the past, occasionally exchanging notes on recent sightings (which he carefully records in a small notebook). Today he approaches us to ask about whether we got any good shots of the osprey hovering above. This inquiry is all it takes to get us swapping stories of what we've been seeing so far this season

0945 Ken reads my notes posted to Albertabird. Like us, he visits the pond daily, usually in the morning (in contrast to our evenings), and he's been watching some of the same nests. He also shares our disdain for the people who come here to walk their dogs, especially at this time of year, when ground-nests are in place and hatchlings beginning to appear

0947 This brings us to the topic of the goslings, and Miracle in particular. Our hypothesis, giving the timing, has been that Miracle originated from the subpond aapsspini who nested in the hawk tree. But Ken isn't so sure. Apparently, when the storm hit seven days ago, and the winds came blasting through, tearing the tree-nest apart, he found one of the broken eggs up on the levee walk near the shallows of south-pond, with a fairly developed, but not nearly ready-to hatch gosling. He suspects it was one of the eggs from the hawk tree, which would mean that Miracle probably wasn't ready to hatch by then either

0948 This is interesting news, because the nest was indeed broken at least three days before I expected the eggs to hatch. On the other hand though, even with the winds as strong as they were, it would seem to me impossible that one of the fallen eggs could be blown up to the levee walk, which is probably a hundred meters distance through forest and patches of thick brush from the hawk tree, and sharply uphill from the tree's base. The egg must have been carried up there by another animal, and in that case it could have just as easily come from one of the nests of the river island or elsewhere

0953 Either way though, it's clear that Ken's a great resource. The notes from his morning walks could tell us a lot about the events we don't get to see, because of our routine of visiting mainly during the afternoons and evenings. Like us, Ken has noticed the relative shortage of shorebirds this season as compared to last year, including the total absence of avocets. But where his morning walks failed to produce any Eurasian wigeon sightings, we did come across one during an evening earlier in the season. Similarly, we hadn't seen any sparrows, but Ken had noted three or four species' arrival already. We'd spotted bank swallows last week, while he'd seen tree swallows. The comparisons went on

1012 Eventually the conversation turned to the history of Sspopiikimi. Ken is probably close to twice our age, and grew up with this place. I thought he might know about the wooden wall that defines part of the north-pond cutbank and extends with the oxbow, through the forest and to the river. Was it a boardwalk of some kind? He didn't know, it was a feature before his time. But he suspected it was more for docking boats, which makes a lot of sense

1014 Throughout Ken's life, Sspopiikimi has looked much as it does today, with the exception that there was no levee walk at one time, and that the cutbank along the west length of the pond was less built-up. This made it so that there were also more reeds along this bank in the past as well. What we call the absinthe field used to be a dump. And folks in Lethbridge just knew the pond itself as "The Backwaters"

1015 As our conversation wound-down, one of the kingfishers flew by, chattering, a first of the season sighting for our friend, and a nice way to close until our next chance meeting

1020 A bit chilled from standing, Mahoney and I are now ready to walk. We head off toward south-pond, but we don't get too far. Just like during my last visit, the Miracle gosling and its parents, along with the Triplet family, a pair of non-breeders, and a lone mi'sikatsi drake are sitting together on our shore. As we approach, they stand up and walk down to enter the safety of the water

1022 At that point, we notice that both sets of parents with goslings are behaving curiously. All of them enter the water and paddle with their necks and heads lowered right to the surface, a posture used both for concealment and to express a goose's utter lack of threatening intention. A lot of times, the geese will use this sign when entering the nesting territory of another, so as to avoid provoking a fight. We figure they're doing this at the moment because of their close proximity to one another... since they both have goslings to protect, neither pair wants any trouble with the other. But what happens next is completely unexpected

1024 With the video camera rolling, we watch as the Triplet goslings leave their parents' side and paddle over toward the other family. Miracle's mom keeps her baby beside her, and dad moves between her and the approaching goslings. It's obvious that he's trying to keep them away from his baby, while at the same time seeming non-threatening. With his head and neck still low to the surface, he nudges the curious goslings with his beak. The Triplet parents, meanwhile, are concerned, but only willing to come so close. They too are trying to avoid catastrophy, or so it seems

1028 The nudging and blocking seems at first to work, the three goslings turning back toward their parents. But then one of them returns and moves around to the gander's other flank. At the same time, Miracle himself meets his mother face to face and nuzzles against her beak briefly before leaving her side and going to peek out from behind his father's tail a the liaison Triplet gosling. It appears as though the latter is trying to coax Miracle out, and he is at least curious, if not excited. When the Triplet gosling then begins to paddle toward its own parents again, Miracle follows right along. From our vantage point, it looks very much as though the goslings themselves orchestrated this kidnapping of the willing

1030 Now we're expecting Miracle's parents to make a more bold move to retrieve their hatchling. Certainly the posturing has changed. Now the two mama geese continue to hold their necks low to the water surface, while the ganders give a certain type of head-bobb. This is not the angry head-bobb, but more the kind of greeting sign we often see between mates when they reuinite. The four goslings are now with the Triplet parents and swimming toward the ksisskstakioyis, with Miracle's parents following cautiously behind

1031 Eventually, the Triplet mama reaches the edge of the beaver lodge and steps up onto it. Two of her own goslings follow her. Papa then steps up as well, and two goslings follow him, including Miracle. Meanwhile, Miracle's parents go to the bank of the wet-meadow just north of the lodge, and continue to give their respective displays. Then another adult goose, probably a close family member of either the Triplets or the Canal couple who are nested not far away, paddles in from south-pond and begins protesting toward Mahoney and I. We have no idea what this one's problem is, but it's giving an alarm call and flanking us from just off-shore

1032 While the protester continues to bark at us, the Triplet family, with Miracle in tow, decide to return to their original position on the midpond cutbank of our shore. Miracle's parents watch them go and, when they are already climbing the opposite shore, suddenly give a half-hearted chase. The pair takes wing and flies, honking, about half the distance that the Triplets have just crossed. To Mahoney, it looks like Miracle's mom wanted to go after him, but that her gander interceded and convinced her to back down. Either way, the couple then swims over and walks up the side of the cutbank themselves, but at a fair distance from the family that now has their baby

1035 We watch for a few more minutes, but nothing changes. Miracle is with the Triplets, probably twenty meters from his own parents, and there's no indication at all that he will be returned. The protester has now ceased carrying on, and is swimming back toward south-pond. We decide to walk that way too, and that we'll return in a bit to find out if anything has changed. It looks very much like Miracle has been adopted into the larger Triplet family

1040 It doesn't take us long to move between the beaver lodge and south-pond, following the goose who had been calling to us a few minutes ago, and passing the still-incubating canal mama on the way. Once at the bench above the peninsula, we start taking in the south-pond scene. There is a lot going on here, but our highest priority is to check the status of the big island nest, which by our measure should have hatched out a few days ago

1042 When we talked to Ken earlier, he said that the big island mama was still sitting her nest when he'd passed by, which is not to say that her eggs hadn't hatched. Mahoney and I are lucky to arrive at the right time. As we look toward the island, mama is indeed sitting her nest, but out beside her are five, wriggling yellow fuzz-balls. They peck around on the ground near the nest briefly, and then scoot back into hiding under mama's wing

1043 So we have confirmation, the big island nest has succeeded. But given the snowfall, there probably won't be too much to see of these new goslings today. We doubt they'll leave the island anyway

1044 With the goslings tucked under-wing, we take a survey of who else is here. There's the small island goose and her gander, along with five other aapsspini couples spaces around this wider end of the pond. The two male mergansers are still lingering, stationed today by the small island nest. One of the redhead couples and and the male of the second couple are just off-shore of the big island. This is the second time I've seen this male alone, so I suspect his mate (which could be Scabby) is nesting. Also on the big island is the mallard drake associated with the nest by the blind. Finally, a spotted sandpiper is poking around one of the uninhabited islands, and we can see more ducks off in the far shallows, but will need to hike over there to identify them

1057 It's too chilly to sit on the bench for long. Soon we are making our way around south-pond to the shallows, following the levee walk. When we eventually drop down into the forest, I recognize some of the new shoots coming up as those of false solomon's seal

1058 Cutting down to the blind, we're rewarded with the treat of another new face for the season. There's a pair of green-winged teals here. At first, we only notice the male, because his mate is associating with two nearby mallard drakes. But when this latter trio begins to move around, the size disparity between them immediately catches our attention. The mallards are giants compared to the teals. And almost as soon as we notice, the female returns to her man. The mallard drakes, however, are not giving up. They follow her to the tiny island where the green-wing male is stationed. Then two more mallard drakes swim in and join them. I'm almost expecting to see the mallard drakes gang up and rape the lady teal, as they are known to do with their own hens. But for as long as we watch them, they remain gentlemen

1100 Also present in the shallows are one aapsspini couple, a pair of northern shovelers, and both male and female redwing blackbirds. The redwings must be approaching their nesting season too. Just before we leave the area of the blind, we see one of the male redwings fly through and peck each of the geese in the head. And as we walk away, there's a kingfisher flying and chattering high above. This is something we haven't witnessed before, a display of sorts

1118 For the rest of our return hike north, Mahoney and I decide to go back up on the levee-walk rather than trekking through the muddy forest. This passage will give us a better view of the canopy anyway. As we move along, we hear a very distinct call, causing us to turn to one another simultaneously and announce, "catbird." The last time I heard this call, a few weeks ago, the question was brought up as to whether it was really a catbird or just a starling in mimic. Well, today we solved that issue. It is indeed a starling, one whose catbird imitation is uncannily precise

1120 Just past the deceptive starling, we spot a female flicker clinging high on trunk of an old poplar snag. From our position, it looks to us like she's sleeping, she's so perfectly still. But on closer inspection, it's learned that she's excavating a new nest cavity. Her quiet and stillness must be an attempt to camouflage herself and her actions from our notice

1129 Soon we are nearing north-pond again, and we move to the cutbank overlooking the river island. There, we see the log goose is sitting on her nest, though it seems a few days late. Just downstream from her, however, the mama of what we consider the main nest of this island is standing. At her feet, a single foraging gosling. For whatever reason, her other eggs didn't make it. Neither gander of these two nests is present, but there is another couple, likely relatives, standing near the mother with gosling, looking on

1148 We have seen a lot in our short visit this morning, and are ready to go home. Mahoney's legs are tiring out. But before leaving, I decide to quickly walk over to midpond to check on the recent adoption. It has been more than an hour since we left the Triplet family, and I want to see if the subpond parents ever went to collect their Miracle... they haven't. When I get there, the subpond parents are nowhere to be found, and the Triplets still have all four goslings