Barn owl by Mia McPherson |
I recently had the good fortune of seeing a barn owl here on
the island, one of my favourite birds of all time and my first in BC. In fact, this
was the first sighting of the North American race of this globally widespread
bird that I have ever clapped eyes on.
As any Brit birder knows, barn owls are pretty common in many parts of the UK, though they’re not always all that easy to find. Thankfully, British barn owls are far more prone to hunting in daytime hours than their new world cousins and as a result many birdwatchers on the Olympic side of the pond get the chance to observe them with tolerable frequency.
As any Brit birder knows, barn owls are pretty common in many parts of the UK, though they’re not always all that easy to find. Thankfully, British barn owls are far more prone to hunting in daytime hours than their new world cousins and as a result many birdwatchers on the Olympic side of the pond get the chance to observe them with tolerable frequency.
Here in British Columbia, however barn owls are really rather
scarce and in a wider Canadian context they’re seriously thin on the ground.
Apparently there are fewer than 300 pairs in BC and just a tiny population
found further east in southern Ontario. Compare that with the estimated 4000 or
so pairs resident in the UK and it’s easy to see why I was so delighted to
watch the ghostly form of a ‘barnie’ here on Vancouver Island.
One of the many interesting things about the North American
barn owl is its scientific name. The nominate race is known as Tyto alba, while the one here is Tyto alba pratincola. Any globally
minded birder will immediately see why the American subspecies’ name might be
so intriguing...
In Europe, Africa, Asia and Australasia one can find members
of an unusual family of aerial feeding, swallow-like shorebirds called
pratincoles. I’ve long since wondered about the provenance of that odd sounding
name, but until now haven’t actually looked into it.
Well, dear reader, I blew the dust off my trusty copy of the
Oxford Dictionary of British Bird Names and read that the name is derived from
the Latin words prātum, meaning meadow and incola
which means resident.
So there it is. It applies perfectly to those dashing pratincoles that habitually frequent short grassy meadows and plains while it also clearly reflects the preferred habitat of the barn owl.
So there it is. It applies perfectly to those dashing pratincoles that habitually frequent short grassy meadows and plains while it also clearly reflects the preferred habitat of the barn owl.
The pic of barn owl here is clearly not my own work (it’s
sharp and well-taken, if you need a clue…) but I stole (or ‘borrowed’) it from
Mia McPherson’s superb OneWingPhotography – a site full of stunning wildlife
images - check it out.
Indian Pipe |
Things have been extremely hectic at work just lately, and
as a result my lunchtime ambles have been severely compromised. I did manage a
quick wander out to Langford Lake on Tuesday, and while the birding was fairly quiet (Swainson’s
thrush, cedar waxwings, etc) I did come across a cluster of one of the most
intriguing plants one can find in BC.
The Indian pipe, also known as ghost
plant and corpse plant, is an uncommon species often found in shaded, dark
forest floors. The most bizarre thing about this odd plant is that it doesn’t
contain chlorophyll, hence its eerie colouration. That also means that it
doesn’t photosynthesize, and therefore can survive perfectly well in locations
where sunlight is at a premium. The Indian pipe gets its energy via specific
fungi, which thrive off the roots of trees. Quite a complex set of parasitical
relationships!
Blue Dasher |
Around the lake edge, there were scores of dragonflies including the smart blue dasher pictured here (this is one of mine).
Later on Tuesday, I stopped off at Panama Flats to see if
any waders were still probing around in what few pools still remain. There were
still 20-plus least sandpipers, 6 western sandpipers, 2 lesser yellowlegs, 1
greater yellowlegs, 4 spotted sandpiper and a single long-billed dowitcher
hanging in there, as well as multiple killdeer.
A smaller accipter was seen briefly flying around the
perimeter of the site, but I couldn’t tell whether it was a sharp-shinned hawk
or just a wee male Cooper’s from the crappy views I got.
It looks like the flats will drop off most local
birders’ radars now that it’s almost completely dry, but it still looks pretty
promising for enticing passing ‘prairie’ shorebirds – buff-breasted or upland
sandpiper anyone?
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