Bald Eagle

Generally, people are more interested in Bald Eagles as symbols rather than living things (including new president Donald Trump). Many trophy hunters in the mid-1900s had this point of view, and hunted eagles mercilessly. At the same time, the infamous pesticide DDT, biomagnified in top predators, caused eagle and hawk eggshells to be so thin that they wouldn’t survive to hatch. In 1978, Bald Eagles were put on the Endangered Species List, and conservation efforts began in earnest. Eagle-hunting and DDT were banned. The conservation of Bald Eagles has been a great success story, and their populations have now increased well past the point of endangerment.

 The term “predator” is applied somewhat loosely where Bald Eagles are concerned. They’ll scavenge for dead animals, steal food from other hawks and eagles, and hunt fish or smaller birds as a last resort. They make their nests in trees near water, and in Metro Vancouver competition has become so fierce for nesting spots that pairs have to stake them out for weeks in advance. Eagles have intelligence, personality, and ecological relevance — they are much more than symbols of human greed for power.

I saw this bird at Boundary Bay and 72nd Street on January 26.

American Coot

Also charmingly known as “mud hens,” American Coots eat mainly plants, which they obtain by diving, scavenging on land, and occasionally stealing from ducks. Coots are superficially duck-like, but are actually related to other birds you’ve never heard of like the Sora and the Purple Gallinule. This family of birds specializes in large, wide, lobed toes (unlike the webbed feet of ducks).

Look at those weird toes. But don't stare, it's not polite.

American coots are horrible parents, and make no secret that they favour some of their children over others. Baby coots with the brightest orange plume feathers get fed the most by Mom and Dad; so despite having bright feathers that attract predators and don’t keep them warm, they won’t starve to death like their less-cute siblings.

I saw these two coots at Reifel Bird Sanctuary on January 20.

European Starling

“Nay, / I’ll have a starling shall be taught to speak / Nothing but “Mortimer,” and give it him / To keep his anger still in motion” says Hotspur in Shakespeare’s Henry IV (1.3.8), planning to train a starling to speak the name of a man held prisoner, then give the starling to the king who refuses to pay the ransom. It is because of this line that we are able to see starlings in North America; 100 starlings were imported from Europe and released in New York in the 1890s by a group of people meaning to introduce every bird to North America that Shakespeare had ever mentioned. Now the starling population is estimated to be 60 million in North America and they range from coast to coast and from the Canadian territories to northern Mexico. Many habitats attract starlings; they whistle down on students from the oak trees on Main Mall at UBC, gather in the thousands in barns of rural areas, and sit on in treetops near mashes and fields. I saw this one off of 72nd street near Boundary Bay on January 10.

Starlings are fascinating birds. They form massive flocks called murmurations that undulate through the sky, as shown in many videos. Their feathers are iridescent and white-tipped, making their plumage look like a night sky full of stars. But as their feathers wear, they’ll lose their white tips, and by spring the birds will be all-dark. Starlings are indeed mimics and will repeat the calls of other birds (ours often sound like eagles and gulls, but I have never actually heard a starling say “Mortimer”).

Starlings are considered invasive in North America, as they are believed to compete with other native species for nest cavities. However, the extent of their invasive-ness is up for debate: some researchers have found that only sapsuckers seem to be losing out due to starling invasion.

Northern Saw-whet Owl

At eight inches long, the Northern Saw-whet Owl is one of Canada’s smallest owls. Their habits include hiding in conifers and holly trees, applying eyeliner, and eating their weaker competitors. They’re nocturnal, and their high-pitched hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo call apparently sounds like a saw being sharpened (hence their name). When weakling Saw-whets aren’t readily available, they’ll eat mice, voles, and small birds such as chickadees, wrens, and sparrows. In retaliation, these small birds will mob sleeping owls in the daylight to drive them away. Because Saw-whets are so good at hiding, listening for the ruckus raised by those mobs is a good way for birders to locate them.

I saw this Saw-whet at Reifel Bird Sanctuary on January 7. They’re regular winter residents at the Sanctuary, so if you want to see one, pay them a visit! Ask at the front desk for directions to this owl as well as to the Great Horned Owls who sleep nearby. You can also scan the marshes between the paths and the ocean for the Short-eared Owl to complete the owl trifecta.

(Okay, owls don’t wear eyeliner. But the Saw-whets have actually been known to eat each other.)