I am fortunate to live in two places that attract birds by the treeful. South Etobicoke, on Lake Ontario’s north shore just west of downtown Toronto, and Thessalon, a narrow finger of land jutting down into Lake Huron’s northern channel an hour southeast of Sault Ste. Marie and little more than a stone’s throw from Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. That both these spots happen to sit hard by a Great Lake undoubtedly contributes to the wealth of feathers surrounding me. The Great Lakes are inland, freshwater seas, and probably a daunting challenge for migrators. So stopping by the shore on one’s way either north or south is established custom. Many birds pass through Etobicoke and Thessalon, while some have made these places their home.

Thessalon waters are frozen thick between December and March, which means most aquatic birds head south from there. And that’s why when I think of a Thessalon bird, it is most often the overwintering common raven and the elusive, majestic bald eagle. But spring sees the return of many ducks and waders, and in better weather local feeders attract everything from blue jays and woodpeckers to ruby-throated hummingbirds.

Etobicoke’s shores can get mighty icy themselves, but it’s rare for the lake there to go utterly solid for any length of time. That means the mute and trumpeter swans that can so shock and please casual walkers are year-round residents, along with a collection of American black ducks, mallards, scaup, goldeneye, long-tail, mergansers, and other diving ducks. And, of course, the Canada geese. Always, always, the Canada geese. All the shots in this posting are from Etobicoke.

I have wandered the trails and pathways of Colonel Samuel Smith Park for close to twenty years, first just to get out of the condo with the kids when they were toddlers and I was a desperate single father looking for distractions, and now on a weekly duty to walk my dog Birdy in her absolute favourite place in the world. Birdy knows when it’s the weekend, and she paws at me to get out of bed and head to the lake. She wants her wild smells of coyote, raccoon, and beaver, and she craves a drink out of that still wild, unbearably cold lake. She likes the bits of Tim Hortons bagel and cream cheese she can weasel from me as well after the walk.

On these weekly walks, I have observed the many (many) birdwatchers that frequent Samuel Smith. Camo clothing, binoculars, long-lens cameras, and a barely-disguised disdain for all recreational dog-walkers. These folks seem to have secret knowledge of migratory patterns, know each other, and show up in numbers whenever a rare sighting hits the grapevine. I have always known I would one day join their cult. Now that I have, I don’t think they’re going to like me as a member. I have a good camera, and a long lens, but I still bring my dog.

Today, my wife Julia and I walked Birdy down at the park, me with a new long lens, and Birdy intrigued by the occasional murdery evidence of predator activity. We happened upon a couple young boys nudging a duck’s head with their shoes on one of the jutting points of the park. A couple week’s back, I’d spotted a Cooper’s hawk in the park, but this kill looked a bit more coyote-like. On the other hand, why would a coyote leave a perfectly delicious head?

The answer came on our walk back to the car. Spotting my lens, a couple approached and asked if we’d seen “the owl.” Apparently, a snowy owl had been spotted, and the birders were out in numbers to get their photos. Would a snowy owl take a duck, and leave its head? Oh yeah.

As I’ve said to friends, my white whale in this birding adventure I’ve taken up is the bald eagle of Thessalon’s Lighthouse Point. I am a cold-water swimmer, and frequent that northern peninsula from May to November. So many times as I swim, I track an eagle above me. I wonder if s/he’s tracking me.

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