I do like a Kingfisher, Belted or otherwise. With their squat bodies, chunky heads and large bills, it's a wonder they don't topple head-first into the water.  In our coastal area, we get the Belted Kingfisher but I believe in the States and Mexico, my southern neighbours, the Ringed Kingfisher and the Green Kingfisher can also be seen. Now mind you, I do get to enjoy the sparkling iridescence of the Common Kingfisher when I visit my folks in Britain. My Princeton Field Guide's Birds of Europe describes the Common Kingfisher thus:

   Beautifully bright colours; crown and wings greenish-blue (look more greenish from some angles depending on how light falls), back and tail bright blue (shifting from azure to cobalt!) underparts and cheek patch warm orangey brownish-red, throat and a patch on neck-side snow-white.

I love the exclamation point. Even the authors can't curb their enthusiasm. In fact, the book is much like that... the usual short ID comments but interspersed with enthusiastic adjectives and notes obviously based on personal observation.

But I digress from my Belted Kingfisher, who is not so showy, but still a lovely slate grey and white. The female sports a rusty halter-top and the juveniles show some rust as well.

So what brought me to this topic? Oh yes, I was watching him along the creek at MapleWood Flats and while he sat on his branch, scanning the clear water below, he was talking to himself, almost under his breath.

Rattle, rattle, pause, rattle, pause, pause...

and up go his crest feathers as he thinks he spies a fish. Nope, he settles and goes back to his muttering rattle.

Sitting on the bench in Lost Lagoon the other day I was treated to the appearance of the Common Merganser. He swam back and forth in front of the bench, along with some Mallards and Coots, now and again straying off but always returning. I thought this to be very unusual as CMs are usually quite shy and flighty. I finally twigged on to his boldness; I was unwittingly scrunching some plastic in my backpack as I removed the hand warmers from their packaging and putting them in my pockets to keep my gloveless fingers warm. The Merganser kept coming close as heard the crinkle of the plastic like a dog or cat with a package of treats. I tested this by letting him paddle away and then scrunched the plastic in a tantalizing manner. Sure enough, he did an about-face and motored back to me. Spoiled bird.

Nevermind the Mallards looking so cute at my feet with their soft, soulful eyes. Don't do the blinky thing with me. You aren't starving, Mr. Glossy.

A visit today in the drizzle at Cates Park brought us to a flock of Common Mergansers patrolling just offshore for food. They paddled along, full steam, with heads underwater. Now, these birds were shy and fidgety, definitely keeping an eye on us as they cruised by. We hunkered down with the dog between us to seem less intrusive.
A little further off were Pelagic Cormorants, showing their white side bum patches as they dove for food.

Joined up with the Birds on the Bay bird group for a walk on the shore trails of Mud Bay. The sun was shining and it was a real treat to come out from under the shadows of the cedars and hemlocks and onto the flat open expanse of the Fraser Valley's delta with its open skies and golden winter grasses.
I saw my first Eurasian Widgeon! He was sitting with the American Widgeons and the sun was causing his head to glow quite a cinnamon red. He didn't know how great he looked because he was napping.
As we started heading back to the parking lot, we spotted a male and female Northern Harrier which are familiar sights over these fields. We all stopped to have a look as our guide pointed out the various ID markings. We must have looked rather odd because we were actually facing the main highway at this point, watching the Harriers on the other side. A couple, out for their morning walk, asked us quizzically what we were watching. "Honda Civic", replied my husband deadpanned, tracking the whizzing blur with his binoculars.

Here we are, admiring the puddle ducks.

Several members mentioned the Long-billed Curlew that could be found over in the Blackie Spit area. Since it was just a fifteen minute drive away we went over to have a look but no joy; just some napping American Widgeons and a loon off in the distance. But here, read this blog for the irony!

Much joy to be had today. I found a whole colony of Bird's Nest Fungus growing close to my house. It's like having my own personal stash of BNF. Previously, I have found only one here and there, found by chance and I agree it is marvy to happen upon something you did not expect to find but knowing there is a cluster of them growing nearby makes me very happy. They were full of their little "eggs" and sitting all industriously around the base of a tree right next to the main trail for all love.

These little splash cups launch the small "eggs" or peridioles out of the cup when struck by rain drops. The airborne peridiole trails a sticky kite tail behind it called the hapteron which catches on branches or twigs. Once some distance from the parent fungus, the peridiole dries up, splits open and releases spores. Amazing. It makes me happy.

I wanted to mention Sonsie, another Bald Eagle from the rehab centre as he was such a character. He thought he was a human due to his human imprinting. Apparently, so the story goes and if I got this right, he came from the Yukon, having been rescued from the water by a couple in a boat. (He had been attacked by crows.)  Unfortunately, for Sonsie, it was two weeks before he could get to the rehab centre ( as they were travelling by boat) and he imprinted on the humans. He was quite the personality and would come to the end of his jess to be admired as he turned this way and that. The end of his freedom, but the beginning of a well pampered life I reckon.

Bald Eagles are HUGE. Like BIG. Way, way bigger than a loaf of bread for example. And really wild looking. No domestic affection in those eyes; just vast oceans and cold mountains.
But I jump ahead.
We returned to O.W.L for a tour and we were in for a surprise as they were going to release a Bald Eagle that had been injured several months ago. The couple who had brought the eagles in were there for the release and filled us in on the story of how the eagles came to be at the rehab centre. Two male eagles had been fighting and, both being impaled by the other's talons, tumbled out of a tree and fell, about thirty feet to the ground into a puddle! There they stayed, impaled in togetherness until folks from the O.W.L society arrived. It took five adults over an hour to pull them apart; that's how serious the eagles were. I guess there is no messing around when you are fighting over territory. With his puncture wounds healed, "Mule" ( as in stubborn-as-a ) was about to be released.
Here is a pic of him getting his last weight measurements. (Hubby took pics from the hall so as not to stress him further). Mule was very calm, "Not like some", the fellow holding him said. "Some fight all the time, from start 'til finish".

The scaly knobs on his feet are called spicules (not to be confused with spiracles! Geek snort.) They help keep a good grip on slippery fish.The back talon is called the hallux.

Here he is, moments away from freedom. The family who brought the bird in is up there taking their farewell photos. They were really nice folks and those eagles were damn lucky they fell in their back yard.

What can one say in moments like these?

Imagine my surprise when I glanced out of the kitchen window and found myself staring at the bright yellow feet of a Cooper's Hawk (juvenile). My brain couldn't figure out what it was staring at because the yellow was all my brain would focus on.

More snow.

I was just leaving my block on a walk when I heard birds making calls I did not recognize. It turned out to be Cedar Waxwings flocking up ( okay, maybe only five) in my neighbour's tree. I couldn't believe it as I hadn't seen any for a few years. I hurried back to my house and grabbed the binoculars and saw, sure enough, that they were, indeed, Cedar Waxwings. One of them obligingly showed me his white undertail so I could properly ID the Waxwing as a Cedar and not a Bohemian, which has a rusty coloured undertail.

Took the bird call to the woods today and squeaked it for around 40 seconds. Nothing happened. No birds came all curious to see what the noise was about. Although a juvenile Bald Eagle flew over my head about twenty-five fee up and did a circle around and then flew off. Then a second one launched itself out of the top of a Western Hemlock and followed the first. Could be coincidence though, since Bald Eagles hang around that part of the forest. I have seen them before.