The Red-eyed Vireo is also frequently captured in fall at Cabot Head, notably this year, when we have found them in our nets every day since August 15 (except for August 20), with daily captures ranging from one to 19 birds. The vast majority of them are brown-eyed birds: young Red-eyed Vireos have brown eyes, easily distinguishing them from older birds. Their eye will change colour over the winter and, in spring, only small differences in wear and tear in wing feathers will allow for accurate age determination. The season total, so far, is 97 Red-eyed Vireos, already more birds banded than the entire total of 15 previous fall seasons. And, there will be more to come: their migration is under way and continues into late September. There were nine fall seasons with triple-digit banding totals, with the records being 239 and 302 birds in falls 2005 and 2023, respectively. It seems unlikely that we will pass these numbers: on September 5, 144 Red-eyed Vireos had been banded in fall 2005, and 211 in fall 2023. 

The migration of wood warblers is also now underway, with good diversity, if not large numbers: days with 10 to 12 species of warblers were relatively common this week. On September 4, for example, we observed 13 species of warblers, notably the daintily coloured Northern Parula. This beautiful warbler is always a treat to observe, despite its habits of spending time high up in trees. It is even more a treat to have it in our nets and our hands… and so it was an incredible surprise to get four Northern Parulas on that day! In the past, only one or two Northern Parula, with four in fall 2023, were banded in 11 previous fall seasons (with nine of them, remarkably, from 2015 onwards). 

Among other highlights of the past week, there was a distant Red-throated Loon flying over Georgian Bay on September 1; a Blue-winged Teal and an American Wigeon on September 2; and a Clay-colored Sparrow on September 3.

Early September is also the time of migration of Canada Geese, with the first flocks appearing in our skies lately, usually taking advantage of tail winds. I always like hearing their honking and seeing their Vs streaking the deep blue sky. It is certainly a sure sign of the passage of time, the marking of the end of summer, the perpetuation of natural cycles. 

Finally, I need to mention that on Sunday evening, August 30, there were an estimated 40 Common Nighthawks dancing in the darkening sky. We watched them in awe flying across the basin or chasing insects over the channel. What a privilege to watch these natural spectacles at Cabot Head, of which I hope to give the best glimpses in the limited space of the weekly blog.

Red-eyed Vireo banded at BPBO, Cabot Head

Banding log

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After 20 faithful years monitoring spring and fall bird migration at Cabot Head, and writing as many seasonal reports, as well as extended reports every five years, I have a fair idea of what to expect on any given day. At the end of August, it is mostly long-distance migrants, like flycatchers, vireos, and (most species of) warblers. But birders always expect the unexpected, or, at least, dream of finding a rare bird, a bird outside its range, a “vagrant”. Vagrancy in birds is a complex phenomenon, so much that it deserves a 639-pages book by the same name (“Vagrancy in Birds”, by Alexander Lees & James Gilroy, Helm, 2021), so let’s just say that today we will focus more on the joy and delight a vagrant bird brings, rather than on the reasons and mysteries of why a bird becomes a vagrant.

And so was the case on the morning of August 27, Catherine (a fourth-time returning volunteer; a BIG thank you to her!) and I were standing in front of the station, eyes and ears wide open as always, when a large, long-tailed bird flew right in front of us and landed on the decrepit but grassy deck of the shipwreck. The white outer tail feathers put us on high alert and we simultaneously raised our binoculars to our eyes in a swift and smooth motion. We both instantly identified the magnified bird to be a Lark Sparrow, using head patterns, bill size, colour and so on. Too quickly, the bird disappeared into the tall dry grasses obscuring most of the shipwreck deck, although I had time to snap a (bad) picture through the spotting scope. After a few minutes, it came out in the open again, showing the chestnut of its harlequin head, the white broken eye ring, the large black malar stripe, the uniform light gray body with a big black spot on the chest, all characteristics of a Lark Sparrow. I managed to take a few slightly less bad pictures before it took off and decisively flew over the basin, above the tree line, and into the far horizon, never to be seen again (at least by us). The few moments it shared with us would nonetheless be seared and cherished in our minds and memories.

As you may guess with this feverish account of a single bird, Lark Sparrow is a vagrant at Cabot Head, not a regular species. Indeed, it is only the second observation in 25 years of monitoring, with the first one a long time ago in spring 2006. This species breeds in grasslands and shrubby borders in open country from California to the Great Plains, with a few populations extending east of the Mississippi River (see map). There are small clusters of breeding birds in extreme south Michigan and northwestern Indiana. Not that far as the Lark Sparrow flies, but the Bruce Peninsula should not be a destination for this species. However, according to eBird data, it seems to be a regular visitor to the east coast during the post-breeding migration. So, maybe, one of these birds took a wrong turn. Regardless of the reasons why one flew all the way to the famous Gargantua (the shipwreck presiding over Wingfield Basin since 1952), it brought excitement and delight to the lucky birders. With such a fleeting appearance, luck was indeed needed, leaving us to wonder how many rare birds one misses…

Lark Sparrow at Cabot Head Research Station, August 27

Besides the Lark Sparrow, the past week brought an interesting mix of weather, with quite a few cloudy days. There was a strong north wind blowing on August 23 and 24, with drizzle on and off, limiting banding and bird movements alike. The rest of the week saw alternating strong south winds and milder west winds. Diversity of warblers was relatively good during this time, notably on the 28th with 12 species. That day marked also a high point in banding with 47 birds of 19 species, following 44 birds of 13 species on the 27th. Nashville and Bay-breasted Warblers were among the most abundant birds captured, but Red-eyed Vireos were also banded in significant numbers: 15 birds during these two days and a total of 44 Red-eyed Vireos banded in these first two weeks. 

The flock of 10 to 23 Hooded Mergansers continues in Wingfield Basin, fishing for crayfish and attended by piratic Gulls. In late afternoon of August 22 (after the first blog was sent off to the – metaphoric – printing press), we observed in light disbelief a female Common Merganser with 7 babies! Seven little, tiny fluffballs, barely out of the nest, so small that a few of them were riding on the back of their mom! Sadly, two days later, there were only two babies left, then only one after a few more days, then none… although without her baby, that female Common Merganser has become undistinguishable from others. Maybe she still has one baby left and moved to a less dangerous part of the world but where that would be is an open question. There are likely many beasts who would be more than happy to feast on such a fine morsel: turtles, fish, mink or otter, gulls. Such is nature: prodigious in its fecundity, unsparing in its harshness.

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Posted by Stéphane Menu, August 23, 2026

Once again, I returned in mid-August to the Cabot Head Research Station, eager as always to begin a new “fall” season, or more precisely, a post-breeding migration monitoring season. Who wants to hear or talk about fall in August?

As usual, monitoring started on August 15 with yours truly and a young but experienced volunteer from Minnesota, awake before dawn to open the 15 mist nets for 6 hours of banding, the first of the 78 days of the season. Imagine moving through your little neck of the woods all summer, not a care in the world (except finding enough food for your brood, avoiding predators, surviving heat and storms), flying from branch to branch, when, all of a sudden, there is a thin wall of nylon mesh in your path! With a shock, you fall into a tangle of threads, and lay there until giants come to extricate you from this trap. Free? Not quite, you are transferred into a cloth bag and moved along to a wooden shack. Out of the bag, into a giant hand, you get a very light aluminum band on the leg, with a number on it that you can’t read (even the bander needs to put on special apparatus called reading glasses to be able to decipher it), your feathers get blown on, exposing the thin pink skin and any fat you may have (how dare are they looking at your belly this way and calling out how fat you are), your wing is measured to the nearest millimeter, and finally, after having been looked at from all angles (maybe these creatures are interested in your age and sex too), you’re head first in a small tube on a scale (look like they want to know your weight as well), you see the light literally at the end of the (very small) tunnel and you launch yourself into freedom. What to think of all that? How to explain what just happened? Luckily, you’re back in the woods, eager to resume your life as before, only sporting a shiny little bracelet on a leg. 

We, humans, will actually never know what goes on inside the heads of the birds we capture. What we do is to assure that we process them with care, safety, and respect. Some are recaptured, even several times, and do not show any deleterious effects, they may even gain weight and put on fat.

So, on that first day, with the appearance of mist nets in their midst, we captured a solid 46 birds of 16 species, notably 18 American Redstarts, our most common local breeder. Even in mid-August, some birds are already migrating. But on this first day, it was mostly local birds, or so it seemed. With great weather throughout this first week of monitoring, banding was quite good, although no daily totals surpassing the first day. The weekly total (August 15 – 22, a week with 8 days, because the season has 78 days, 11 weeks and one day) comes to 228 birds of 32 species, the fourth highest total for that week. Unsurprisingly, the most numerous banded species are the abundant local breeders, with American Redstart far ahead (68 birds banded), followed by a tight group of 3 species with a little over 20 birds banded (Black-and-white Warbler, Black-throated Green Warbler and Red-eyed Vireo). Common Yellowthroat (14 birds banded) and Nashville Warbler (12 birds banded) are also well represented in the weekly total. 

All the other species were banded in single-digit. Among them were the first “real” migrants, species who don’t breed on the Bruce Peninsula, already on the move: Tennessee, Cape May, and Bay-breasted Warblers, summer birds of the boreal forest, starting their long journey to southern Mexico and Central America. 

Of course, we don’t just catch and band birds at Cabot Head. We also spend a lot of time observing, straining our ears and eyes to detect and identify birds. My ears perked up on the first morning when the tik-tik of a Red Crossbill rang from a tall spruce. This vagabond of the coniferous forest is quite infrequent at Cabot Head, with detections only in 8 previous fall seasons, although almost every fall since 2020 (missed in 2023). One to three detections per season have ranged from August 16 (in 2024) to October 31 (in 2012 and 2020).

On Wingfield Basin, we’ve observed daily a large flock of Hooded Mergansers, likely the same birds, feeding on crayfish and being pestered and pirated by Ring-billed and American Herring Gulls. Their numbers vary from 15 to 33 birds, the latter being the highest fall day total ever counted. This species likely breeds in tree cavities around the nearby lakes but is not always seen on Wingfield Basin, and even less in double-digit numbers, except in some years (notably fall 2024 when daily total reached 26 birds on August 17). It is always fun to watch them dive and come back up, sometimes with a big crayfish in their small serrated bill, almost too big to swallow. 

A few Common Loons were seen flying south this week, harbingers of more to come: their peak migration tends to be in October. Bald Eagles, as always, rule the sky, with the local adult pair and several young and immatures crossing paths. 

On August 22, the last day of this 8-day week, the first few hours of the morning were very quiet. Suddenly, it seemed that birds were everywhere, notably warblers: not many got in the nets but we observed a total of 15 species of warblers, including several Cape May, a few Bay-breasted and Tennessee, as well as many Black-throated Green Warblers. What a treat to watch these lively mixed flocks.

“American Redstart (Setophaga ruticilla)” by acryptozoo is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

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Imagine walking calmly in the woods, among tall cedars, intent on checking the mist nets. Suddenly you hear a loud whooshing, whistling sound. You crouch, instinctively, not quite afraid but uncertain. What just happened? Well, you experienced a visit from the jay squad.

Blue Jays are still moving through in early June at Cabot Head, sometimes in big flocks: 150 Blue Jays were counted on June 8 in one single flock as birds flew from the lighthouse point towards us, filling the sky with their fluttering wings. From time to time, some of them dropped like stones from the sky, tucking their wings close to their body, and losing height quickly. And this is what makes the sudden whooshing sound. As few as 20 or 30 birds can produce such a distinctive and surprising sound. And it could be Common Grackle as well, birds about the size of a jay. The first time one hears that sound is certainly unnerving or, at least, bewildering. Then, once one knows what to expect, it is just fun. Just like the buzzing high pitched rattle of a rattlesnake!

Blue Jay

Unsurprisingly, the last week of monitoring was quite mellow, with few birds caught or seen. We caught quite a few members of the Tyrannidae family, the flycatchers, who tend to be very late migrants: Alder and/or Willow Flycatchers (grouped under the name Traill’s Flycatcher, as they are indistinguishable in the hand), Yellow-bellied Flycatchers and Eastern Wood-Pewees. Recaptures of birds banded in previous seasons continued, some new for the spring, some having been recaptured a few times already this season. It will be interesting to explore more about their personal histories of captures as we dig into the data. A quick look revealed that one American Redstart banded a few years ago was recaptured for the first time this spring, whereas another one banded at about the same time had been recaptured almost every spring season. 

A strong south wind and intense rain on the morning of June 6 prevented any banding, the 4th such day in this dry spring. There were still an appreciable number of Canada Goose flying north, notably one flock of 150 geese early morning on June 9. Later on, that same morning, as heat created rising thermals, a large kettle of 92 Broad-winged Hawks was observed. It was quite a sight, and relatively rare at such a late time in the season. However, 205 Broad-winged Hawks were counted on June 6, 2008, in a single, “impressive” (as described in the spring 2008 report), kettle.

Finally, on June 10, at 11am, the nets were closed one last time for the 2026 spring migration monitoring season, after a cool, misty, very foggy morning. It is always a bittersweet moment when 57 days of daily observations and banding come to an end at beautiful Cabot Head. This closes the end of our 25th(!) spring migration monitoring season. But, fear not, we will be back on August 15 to start the post-breeding migration monitoring once again! The spring season was another success, thanks in no small part to the few dedicated long-term volunteers who made it happen; thank you to them!

(Full disclosure: this week’s title is directly inspired/ripped off from Jennifer Egan’s great and fun novel A visit by the good squad. A summer reading list suggestion!)

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We have just entered the month of June, the gateway to summer, with the world, green and warm, and in full bloom. The woods are now filled with songs, a symphony of birds claiming their grounds, attracting (or trying to) mates. Another breeding season is underway! 

Weather over the past week has been extremely good, with daily blue skies and mostly light winds. As a consequence, 97% of potential mist-net hours were realised. With nets fully open for so long, we should have caught an abundance of birds. Unfortunately, that was not the case: the weekly banding total was a mere 97 birds, not the lowest total for this specific week, but quite below the average of 154 birds banded. It was a smattering of species, with some still being on their migration journey, like the Palm Warbler or Blackpoll Warbler, which don’t breed on the Bruce Peninsula. Other species, chiefly among them, American Redstart and Red-eyed Vireo, do breed on the peninsula, so the current catch could be a mix of birds having arrived at their final destination (the locals) or those that are still on their way further north. 

This past week, there was also a good number of recaptures: 30 birds in our nets already had a band on them, 13 of them were banded this spring, sometimes just a few days earlier. Remarkably, 17 recaptured birds were banded in previous years at Cabot Head. For example, on May 28, two Red-eyed Vireos were caught in the same net at the same time, quite close to each other. Perhaps they had been chasing each other before hitting the net, as territorial, breeding birds often do. Both were banded, one as an adult in spring 2025 (meaning born in 2023 or before), the other one as a hatch-year in fall 2025. Black-throated Green Warbler and American Redstart were the other two species most represented in these recaptures. A deeper look at them will be done for the spring report (to be published in late summer).

Even if there wasn’t much in our nets, the sky was still alive with flittering or vocalizing flocks Black-capped Chickadees were not as abundant as in previous weeks, but we still saw some small groups. Blue Jays, on the other hand, are now being seen in larger and larger flocks, sometimes up to a hundred or so individuals. Admittedly, it is not the easiest species to count, as they like to fly back and forth around the basin. Cedar Waxwings were also seen frequently, in tight and fast flocks flicking past quickly. Seen in early light, with the sun shining under them, their flocks shimmer with flapping wings and golden plumage. 

On days when the wind picked up in the morning, large honking flocks of Canada Geese appeared over the bluffs, passed overhead, and flew towards the watery horizon of Georgian Bay. They are, for me, the embodiment of migration, Their V formations intent on distant lands, pushed by wind and an inner drive. At this time of year, late May/early June, failed or non-breeding Canada Geese are moving north to moult, to find large lakes or even the shores of James Bay, places with fewer predators and lots of food. Geese lose all their flight feathers at once when they moult, becoming completely flightless, and then quite vulnerable. When not encumbered with goslings, it thus makes sense to spend some energy flying to a safer place.

There is now only one week left of the 2026 spring migration monitoring.

A distant flock of Canada Geese approaching Wingfield Basin and Georgian Bay

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The Black-capped Chickadee is a widespread, abundant, and familiar species across North America. It is a regular at backyard feeders and readily lands on human hands to grab food offered. In short, a lovely little fluffball, endearing to all… Except, maybe, for banders when they fill up mist nets: a chickadee in a net is a fierce and feisty fighter, pecking at the giant fingers that are trying to extract it, while its strong feet are hanging on tight to as many mist net threads as they can grab. In short, a gnarly little fightball, endearing to no one!

One chickadee in a net is actually not that bad, a challenge for us banders, to keep our skills sharp and our mental strong. The trouble is, chickadees like company, and tend to move like a little flock of winged sheep: where one goes, all follow. And this is how we can end up with 15 to 30 chickadees in one net, all at once! That was the case on May 22, notably during two net rounds: at 8:45am, the net A1 was filled with 18 Black-capped Chickadees, with four more in the next one just a few metres away. It was “all hands on deck” or, rather, at the nets. Two hours later, net A1 was almost as full, with 14 chickadees, but this time, nine more were awaiting in net A2. In these two rounds, we banded 45 Black-capped Chickadees of the daily total of 66. We estimated that there were at least 150 chickadees around the station that morning, so we felt lucky (and relieved!) that many escaped our nets. Many other birds did not: besides the 66 chickadees, we also banded 82 birds of 23 other species in total on that fateful day, notably 23 American Redstarts and 11 Magnolia Warblers. The May 22 total of 148 birds banded was the fifth day of triple-digit number this spring: these five days combined, represent about 48% of the season banding total so far. This spring, the boom and bust pattern of bird migration is real!

Accordingly, the following day, May 23, under an overcast sky and a strong east wind, with rain approaching fast, was a bust, with only 13 birds of 11 species banded and not a single chickadee. In fact, not a single Black-capped Chickadee was detected that day! The rain arrived in late morning, forcing us to close the nets one hour early. The delight of the day was a Black-bellied Plover, calling and flying past the station. This is a rare species at Cabot Head, with detections in four previous spring seasons (and in fall 2002 and 2004 with one bird each). 

Early on May 24, a strong east wind was still blowing with some drizzle, but nets were open when conditions improved enough. The bust continued, though, with only nine birds of three species banded and not a lot of bird activity around either.

On May 25, we had some FOY joy: even at such a late date in spring, some species are still arriving, the so-called late migrants. Not fashionably late, but naturally late, following their own internal clock. We heard the melancholic song of the Eastern Wood-Pewee, a soft whistle that doesn’t carry far. I am always surprised to discover a singing Wood-Pewee so close by when its song seems to come from so far away. The other FOY was also from the flycatcher family (Tyrannidae, to sound serious and scientific), the boreal loving Olive-sided Flycatcher. This time, we had the good fortune to see it well, perched on a birch treetop. Usually, its song, a loud “quick three beer” (as the mnemonic goes), is the only indication of its presence. Another late bird at Cabot Head is the Cedar Waxwing: only in the last few days have we seen small flocks of this dandy of a bird flying around, with daily total of well over a hundred on May 26 and 27. 

A windstorm greeted us on May 26, blowing furiously all day and preventing any nets from being open, only the third day of the season with no banding at all. It was also quite difficult to hear or see birds in this wind. Nonetheless, a Northern Mockingbird was seen briefly but very well.

Dawn of May 27 was calm, not a breeze stirring, and not a cloud in the sky: after a long wait, it seems that the warmth has finally arrived on the northern Bruce Peninsula. Birds have started to sing in earnest, staking territories, and advertising their availability. Once again, chattering flocks of Black-capped Chickadee were roaming around Cabot Head, moving from tree to tree, crossing little openings, making it difficult to get a precise tally (maybe 70 birds, maybe more). This time though, none ended up in our nets. 

Why so many chickadees, you may ask? It is true that this species is a resident bird, not prone to migrate, and forming small flocks (of up to 12 birds) usually only in winter when they are not territorial anymore and exploit a larger area. However, after a summer of high breeding success or a severe food shortage, massive numbers of Black-capped Chickadees, can move through the land, in a phenomenon called irruption. With 151 chickadees banded this spring so far, it is possible that we are experiencing some kind of irruption. It is only the third spring season with triple-digit numbers, after 2002 and 2011 with 342 and 166 chickadees banded, respectively. The highest one-day total in those years was 39 chickadees on April 17, 2002, which makes this week’s 66 birds an all-time record for spring! I am in no rush to break it…

Black-capped Chickadee

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What a difference a week makes. The world at Cabot Head has now turned a soft shade of green, with young leaves unfurling all around us, and flowers blooming, luring hummingbirds from the tropics. The return of so many birds indeed gives a tropical feeling with dazingly displays of flashing colours, so remarkable that it is in their names: Indigo Bunting, Scarlet Tanager, Rose-breasted Grosbeak. 

After the remarkable fall-out of May 13 (see the previous blog), the following days were also very busy, with 128 birds banded of 29 species on the 14th and 87 of 28 species on the 15th. A total of 18 species of warblers were detected on the 14th, while the first Swainson’s Thrushes were banded (with two birds) on that day. On the 15th, another species of warbler was seen very briefly but brought a lot of joy: a brilliant male Golden-winged Warbler was observed in a cedar before flying away not to be seen again (or so we thought?). 

On May 16, a fierce South wind was blowing, pushing warm air, clouds, and birds in its wake. With only a few nets open for the first half of the morning before the rain started, we had plenty of time for observation, aided by the amazing eyes and ears of Ted Cheskey, one of the founding members of the bird observatory. At the end of the 7 hours of monitoring, we tallied an astounding 91 species, which is only the 4th day in all the spring seasons with more than 90 species detected, including 99 species on May 21, 2011, the highest ever. That day so long ago, Ted was also present, doing Birdathon with another founding member, Rod Steinacher, which likely helped with the number total. What would help too is to donate to this year’s Birdathon: there is still time to give to Ted’s 2026 Gift4BPBObirds effort. The campaign ends on June 1. Donate today!

Among the 91 species of May 16, there were 9 FOY joy of many different families, worth an extended list: Semipalmated Plover, usually seen every year but almost always detected by its flight call; Chimney Swift, another fast flying bird, often described as a “cigar with wings” (although I would say that cigars look to me like swifts without wings); Black-billed Cuckoo, a shy bird of tangled vegetation; Gray Catbird, a vocal bird of tangled vegetation, revealing itself with its uncanny imitation of a cat meowing and its mimicry song; Great Crested Flycatcher, detected this time by its loud call; Bobolink, heard in flight (and seen); Tennessee Warbler, an unassuming forest gem with a loud percussive song, the soundtrack of the boreal forest; Wilson’s Warbler, another denizen of the boreal forest, but dazzling in yellow and green, topped with a black cap; Clay-colored Sparrow, the more subdued but charming little sparrow of the vast grasslands of the mid-continent, its range expending through the lower Great Lakes. 

There was also a strong and sudden movement of Common Loon over Georgian Bay once the thunderstorm passed through: we watched 14 Common Loons, at one time, in the sky with two Red-throated Loons amongst them (easily identified by their smaller size).  

On May 17, calmer weather prevailed, allowing all the nets to be open for the normal 6 hours. Banding was also somewhat normal, with 32 birds of 14 species captured. Diversity was still quite high during our observation period, with 85 species detected, including 20 species of warblers, likely the high point of the spring. The large flock of sparrows of the previous day was mostly gone, though, including the 3 Clay-colored Sparrows. 

On May 18, the day dawned overcast but a strong south wind quickly gathered strength and cleared the sky, while bringing a humid warmth to Cabot Head: it almost felt like summer was here, with an explosion of green across the trees, as well as of the population of the biting stable flies! The increasing wind forced us to close many nets and only 24 birds of 14 species were banded. However, one adult male Golden-winged Warbler was among them, trading quantity for very high quality! It was only the 14th Golden-winged Warbler ever banded at Cabot Head, all but one in spring, and the first since 2015. This beautiful species had declined drastically across its range, by as much as 95% in some areas, sadly deserving the official status of Threatened on the federal Species-at-Risk Act list in Canada. On that day, we also observed eight (8!) Bald Eagles, the resident adult pair and 6 immatures, showing that decline and extinction are not pre-ordained: Bald Eagles were once as threatened as the Golden-winged Warbler is now, but through hard work, legislation, and dedication, that species has rebounded to a point when seeing 8 of them in a morning is not such an anomaly. In the evening, an intense wind and rain storm engulfed us, bringing down trees and flooding the road (temporarily).

Golden-winged Warbler, banded at BPBO on May 18, 2026

The next morning, May 19, it was fog that was engulfing us at dawn but the rising south wind quickly cleared up the sky, while once again enveloping Cabot Head in a humid warmth. The south wind this time did not bring as many birds and new species as it had on May 16, with the FOY joy being a female Northern Shoveler over the bay (a species not seen frequently at Cabot Head), Canada and Mourning Warblers caught in the nets, and a Yellow-billed Cuckoo seen right next to a net, even flying and bouncing off it. Nonetheless, a respectable 38 birds of 19 species were banded that day.

And then the cold returned! On May 19, it was chilly again, with a fierce west wind blowing under a bright blue sky. No more stable flies around, but not many birds either. It is the spring whiplash of the Bruce Peninsula: never stow your toque away before July! Actually, a toque should always be at hand regardless of time of year and place in Canada, called the Great White North for a reason. 

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The days between May 7 and May 13 seemed to be moving in slow motion. Most days were cold, sometimes clear, sometime cloudy or overcast, with wind coming from all points of the compass, and rain in parts of two mornings. Conditions were nonetheless very good to allow complete banding coverage in four days and partial coverage in the remaining three. Only on May 9 was banding severely limited with only 5 nets open for 4 hours, because of a very strong south wind bringing heavy rain in mid-morning.

So, it was quite disheartening to spend days doing the rounds and checking nets that stayed stubbornly empty: in the first 6 days of the current week, a grand total of 38 birds were captured and banded. We even had 2 days with all 15 nets open for the regular 6 hours when we caught… two (2!) birds one day and three (3!) the other day. Where were the birds?

There was not much to observe either on these days, though we kept trying. In trying, we did get some nice observations.

On May 7, there was a steady movement of Common Loons over Georgian Bay, with 74 counted. And 2 Red-throated Loons flying together alongside 2 Common Loons: the size difference helped the identification, as they were quite far.

On May 8, the big flocks of Blue Jay and Black-capped Chickadee kept us entertained. And a distantly-perched blackbird tested our identification skills: it was a Brewer’s Blackbird, only the 8th spring with observation (of one bird each). A FOY (First of Year) Red-bellied Woodpecker was seen flying by on that day too.

On May 9, the windstorm kept most nets closed, as mentioned, which freed time to do a bay watch: standing on the shore scanning the bay, not for damsels in distress, but for waterbirds flying fast and furious in a northerly direction. In doing so, I was gratified to count 116 Common Loons, a high daily total for spring: it is the 6th day in all spring seasons with a triple-digit total. It needs to be said that it is not always possible to devote a lot of time watching the bay and it is quite likely that loon movement is unreported. The strong south wind on May 9 certainly helped other species as well: 33 White-winged Scoters, 35 Long-tailed Ducks, and 150 Red-breasted Mergansers were counted that morning.

On May 12, the pair of Trumpeter Swans returned to Wingfield Basin with… well, a trumpet call! They have been seen every day since, feeding, preening, and resting on the basin. It is a wonderful addition to the bird life of the area and the soundscape of Cabot Head has been transformed with the addition of this species. It is both frightening and uplifting to think that the Trumpeter Swan got almost wiped out from the Earth. The Company, the venerable Hudson’s Bay Company, shipped more than 200,000 wings of swans to England in the heyday of its trade (possibly both Tundra and Trumpeter): a good clerk in London was using several quills a week, the quill being an actual feather! Destruction of habitat and hunting for meat were also to blame for the decline. Only a few Trumpeter Swans survived in Yellowstone National Park and in the remote parts of the Yukon and Alaska. All the ones we have in the Great Lakes come from painstaking work of reintroduction. It is through luck and hard work that we can now enjoy their deep and resounding call that gave them their name, instead of trying to imagine it through the dusty writing of past naturalists. 

Trumpeter Swan with wing tags

On May 11, we had the FOY joy of a flash of sunshine beamed down to earth, also known as a (Northern) Yellow Warbler. (Northern, because it recently got split with the Mangrove (Yellow) Warbler). By paying close attention, we observed a Gambell’s White-crowned Sparrow, different from our regular Eastern version, by its white lore and yellow bill. It was also the morning when I counted 117 Black-capped Chickadees, one by one, as they crossed a small opening, flying from tree to tree.

May 12 dawned clear and frosty! The cold seemed to keep the birds away: it was one of the infamous days when all the nets were open for 6 hours and… nothing! Well, not nothing, 3 birds! A large flock of over 200 Blue Jays was observed, so it was not nothing after all. And intense observation brought quite a bit of FOY joy, a promise of more to come maybe: Horned Larks heard and seen overhead; Rose-breasted Grosbeak and Baltimore Oriole, with their melodious songs; the forest gems and their brilliant colours, Magnolia, Blackburnian, and Black-throated Blue Warblers and American Redstart. The latter was a bit late, usually the FOY arrives between May 8 and 10. The clear sky of the morning slowly clouded over with an east wind picking up, a harbinger of rain.

The rain started in late afternoon on May 12 and continued through the night. At dawn, on May 13, a stiff east wind was still blowing but it was not raining anymore. So, a few sheltered nets were open for 1.5hr when a heavy rain fell for a while. During this time, 10 birds were captured. With the wind shifting to west and decreasing, all the nets were open at 8:30am. During the census, before opening the nets, it was clear that quite a few birds were around, with FOY Northern Parula, Chestnut-sided Warbler, and Scarlet Tanager. But we were not ready for what was to come, maybe lulled into complacency from the slowness of the previous days. All of a sudden, practically all the nets became filled with birds: it was GO time! There was no more time to watch the loon migration over the bay or to count chickadee one by one: all our energy was at the nets to quickly and carefully extract the birds, and in the banding lab to process them in a timely manner. It rapidly became apparent that we had to close nets to be able to stay on top of the influx, with only two of us present. So, starting at 10am, we started to close nets as soon as they became freed of birds. Except for one mad dash at the nets at 10am to extract and start the process of closing nets (I managed to close five), I spent the rest of the morning in the banding lab, banding as fast as possible, while Cloé was working the nets and bringing loads and loads of bags from time to time. The last net was finally closed at 1:30pm and we banded the last bird a bit before 2pm. It was time for lunch and rest, with the 5am breakfast but a faint memory.

It was a classic fall-out, which is defined by the result of severe weather preventing birds from continuing their migratory flight and causing them to drop down on the ground to rest, take shelter, and feed. In the end, we banded 204 birds of 25 species (including 15 of warblers). It is only the 9th day over 25 spring seasons with over 200 birds banded. No specific daily records were broken despite some high counts: 36 Nashville Warblers banded, 26 Yellow-rumped Warblers, 24 Magnolia Warblers, and the gems of the gems (in my humble opinion) 10 Cape May Warblers and 4 Northern Parulas. No time was taken to admire them but they were all deeply appreciated. Three Veeries were banded, the first of the season, as well as 2 Lincoln’s Sparrows (also FOY). There was also a late American Tree Sparrow amongst all these bags. Despite the madness, Cloé managed to see the FOY Bay-breasted Warbler (while none got in the nets). The haunting song of a Wood Thrush was resonating at the base of Middle Bluff, announcing the arrival of this species. And I got a quick view of the FOY Red-eyed Vireo.

Bird migration is truly an awe-inspiring phenomenon and May 13 will stay in our memories as a day of wonder and excitement.

Daily banding totals showing the “fall out” of May 13

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There was not a lot of merriment at the start of the merry, merry month of May. We experienced weather still cold, putting a damper in our spirits and bird migration. A low total of 101 birds were banded during the last 7 days, more than half the average total for that week (weekly totals for April 30 to May 6 range widely from a low of 38 birds in 2008 to a high of 648 birds in 2014). 

Nonetheless, the weather was particularly conducive for banding, with winds light enough and no rain, allowing for all nets to be open for the 6 hours of monitoring on 5 days of the week, with another day when only one net stayed closed. On May 4, though, a strong south wind blew, precluding opening of about half the nets. It was, paradoxically, the warmest day of the past week, reaching a balmy 14°C in mid-day. We thoroughly enjoyed these temperatures while searching high and low for birds. Alas, the wind was so fierce that very few birds were visible. A scattering of birds was captured that day, despite less than ideal conditions and only half the nets open. In total, 26 birds of 11 species were banded that day, which, remarkably, is the second highest total of that week.

The highest banding total is 48 birds banded of 7 species on April 30, which represents almost 50% of the weekly total. However, that total was boosted by a large flock of Black-capped Chickadee being caught all at once in two nets: imagine 32 feisty and spirited chickadees in two nets waiting to peck at your fingers while you try to gently and safely extract them! It is… a fun challenge? It is certainly a challenge but one that everybody rose to and all these little fury balls of feathers were safely put in cloth bags to be banded and released quickly. That day was one of clear sky and cold temperatures, with a light Northwest wind picking in the morning. Besides the roving large flocks of chickadees, there wasn’t much to see.

That was unfortunately the story of the rest of the week: these first days of May did not bring in the long-expected warmth and the colourful return of expected Neotropical migrants. Or is it the expected return of colourful Neotropical migrants? Some in the birding world would say that May is the most exciting month for birds, at least in the Great Lakes region, when the multitude of bird species come back to their northern breeding grounds, bringing all the panache and colours of the tropics with them, enlivening the still bare branches and twigs of trees barely out of a winter these Neotropical migrants will never experience. 

We did experience some FOY joy during these lacklustre days, with a trickle of warblers, the forest gems, appearing ever so briefly on our shores. On May 4, the force was with us when Cape May Warbler and Northern Waterthrush were detected. A total of 8 species of warblers were detected on that day, with all 6 previous detected species seen as well. 

On May 5, a volunteer sporting a rose tuque was buzzed by the first Ruby-throated Hummingbird of the year, who likely was interesting in that giant bloom on top of the weird two-legged creature. This little marvel was not seen again, to the everlasting sadness of the rest of the crew. The other FOY joy of the day was collected in the nets, with not one, but two, Ovenbirds, and one Orange-crowned Warbler. The latter species was also seen very briefly at the tip, with two birds who flew off toward the dark side, I mean, the lighthouse side. 

In other highlights: an Eastern Whip-poor-will was calling his namesake call at dawn on May 1, a few days after being detected first in the evening. It is quite an early arrival for this species. On May 3, an immature Golden Eagle was seen briefly near Middle Bluffs, even perching while mobbed by a Common Raven. It took off again to disappear behind the bluffs. A male American Kestrelwas captured and banded on May 3, the second ever in 25 years of monitoring.

Regardless of how busy, or not, bird migration and banding are, Cabot Head offers wonders to observe and appreciate. On the day of the Kestrel, for example, I was treated by the amazing sight of an adult Bald Eagle trying to catch an otter while it was swimming in Wingfield Basin. On four occasions, the eagle scooped down and extended its talons toward the surfacing otter but every time pulled up short, maybe intimidated by the large size of this semi-aquatic Mustelid. Eventually the otter arrived on shore and quickly ran into thick woods where the eagle could not follow. The same day, two Caspian Terns were sitting side by side on a rock, being very comfortable with each other. To the point that one jumped on the back of the other: they appear to be not very experimented in the balancing act of bird copulation, which does require considerable equilibrium and coordination. So, it failed… for now. 

Ovenbird

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It was a very interesting past week, with lots of birds in our nets and in the sky, trees,  shrubs, and on the ground, resulting in lots of banded birds with a strong diversity of FOY joy (First-of-Year sightings). The weather was the usual mix for this time of year with cold calm days, cold windy days, and clear or overcast days with the occasional windstorm, rain, and warmth.

April 22 dawned clear, calm, and cold. During the morning, there were large flocks of Common Grackle and smaller flocks of Red-winged Blackbirds. The smooth waters of Georgian Bay made it easier to notice all the Horned Grebes, bringing a high total of 42 birds. At the end of the morning, a modest 27 birds of 11 species were banded and a total of 58 species were detected, quite good but not that impressive. It was however the beginning of a good week of banding and diversity.

April 23 was also calm but started mostly overcast. As the cloud cover started to shrink, the numbers of birds in our nets increased, bringing a daily total of 41 birds banded of 15 species, notably 17 Brown Creepers. The highlights were the 62 species observed, including a handful of FOY joy species (Caspian Tern, Black-and-white Warbler, and Vesper Sparrow). 

The next day, April 24, under an overcast sky and a moderate East wind, the trees were filled with trumpeting little Red-breasted Nuthatches. Many of them ended up in our nets, bringing a record daily total of 26 banded. This species is banded in much higher numbers in the fall than in the spring. In fact, in the past 23 spring seasons (excluding 2020 because of its limited monitoring), daily banding totals of Red-breasted Nuthatches were all single-digit numbers, except on May 19, 2019 when 12 were banded. Spring season banding totals have actually been under 26 nuthatches (the total of this year’s April 24) in all spring seasons except three, with two of them being season totals of 27 and 29 birds. Only spring 2019, with the help of May 19’s 12 nuthatches, 57 Red-breasted Nuthatches were banded. This year, the season banding total is already at 52 birds! Among all the nuthatches, there was the FOY Black-throated Green Warbler who sang very shortly.

Rain fell in the end of the night and early morning of April 25, pushing the opening of nets back an hour. The first three hours at the nets were very slow, with also very few birds around. However, birds arrived and did they arrive! For a good two hours, birds hit the nets in droves. It was right during the BPBO Annual General Meeting (AGM) on Zoom: I had barely finished giving my little presentation of last year’s monitoring when I was called to the rescue by my competent and efficient volunteers. Little did they know they were rescuing me from hearing the financial statement being presented at the AGM! In the end, 163 birds of 9 species were banded, 143 of them in the second half of banding. Two species were the stars, Ruby-crowned Kinglet with 56 birds banded, and Slate-colored Junco with 55 banded. The latter is actually the third highest daily spring total for that species. On April 20, 2007, 87 Juncos were banded, and 60 banded on April 18, 2009. 

On April 26, the skies were clear, and the wind so calm that it died during the morning. It was a good day at the nets, with a decent 44 birds banded. However, the spectacle was in the sky with many raptors to be admired. At the end of census, I was treated by close views of a Rough-legged Hawk, the official FOY of the season. Later in the morning, it was large numbers of Broad-winged Hawks milling in thermals, joining and parting, for a total of 143 birds counted one by one during a brief moment they were all gliding together in the same direction. Among them was a lone FOY Red-shouldered Hawk. Just before going to the nets to close them, a casual look at the horizon picked up a large bird who rang my alarm bells: sure enough it was a wonderful immature Golden Eagle! As a lover of birds of prey, I was delighted. Much smaller, but as valuable, we detected the FOY Palm and Nashville Warblers, bringing the daily total to 65 species.

April 27 was another clear and calm day at dawn, but the southeast wind picked up shortly after sunrise, gathering strength throughout the morning and bringing warmth with it (about 15°C at midday). Quite early in the day, we watched a beautiful Great Egret fly close by, seen only twice before in spring, both on May 26, in 2005 and 2022 (and in five fall seasons): a rare treat indeed. With 65 birds banded of 13 species, it was another good day. The 68 species detected during that day were definitely the highlight; there were 6 species of warblers and sparrows, 5 species of woodpeckers and Icteridae (that is, the so-called Blackbirds, although the Eastern Meadowlark seen is far from black). It is the highest ever number of species detected in April (tied with April 24, 2022). In 315 days in April with monitoring, there have only been 9 days with over 60 species detected. 

Maybe all these birds were in a hurry to move, since the following day, April 28, was a day of storm: heavy rain and south howling wind made banding impossible, of course, and observations were also limited. Nonetheless, it was nice to see one Osprey playing in the wind and two Caspian Terns in the distance.

The week ended on April 29 with a mere 26 birds banded, but it brought the weekly total to 385 birds, the second-highest total for the week of April 23 – 29. Comparisons between years are on a weekly basis, as daily totals are too variable to be meaningful. It was last year that the previous record was not only broken but shattered, when 597 birds were banded, 223 more birds than the record of 2022. Who knows how long the 2025 record will last? This year is not quite good enough. Regardless of record-breaking, the diversity observed and the busy nets of this past week were a delight to witness. 

Caspian Tern

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