My son, I'm quite proud to say, is turning into quite a budding naturalist. He takes great delight in the natural world around him, and never fails to tell me of the birds and other things he's seen when we are apart. He also delights in the small, flipping rocks to find what lies beneath. A couple of days ago he found some tiny life during our walk, a small red mite under a rock and a larger whitish one under another stone.
The night before last he slept over with his grandparents at their tent in Victor Bay (Travis is never happier than when outside). When he returned home he told me of his discoveries, a dead bird (the name only known in Inuktitut), and a live one. When he described the dead bird I was at a loss, but his description of the live one tantalized me. I grabbed the closest field guide and opened it to a possibility. Yes, he confirmed that was the bird, one of the redpolls.
So when we returned to Victor Bay we set off with two goals. He was going to show me the dead bird and where he saw the redpoll, a bird that while I know it is well within its range here, I've yet to see in the Baffin. The first spot was a small pond that is used by the kids for swimming at Victor Bay, and sure enough a smallish very dead waterfowl was floating in it. Numerous rocks later we moved it close enough to shore to grab. It was a female Long-tailed Duck, quite smaller than I thought they were, wrapped in fish line. It was a good example of why we gather discarded fishline when we find it, and why we never discard it on the land.
Next it was off to find the redpoll, and while I'd love to say we were successful, alas we only found the usual suspects. We saw a lot of Snow Buntings and Lapland Longspurs, both species pouring forth with song, but the redpoll was not to be found. It was then we found out about another treasure, an easily accessible Raven's nest.
As soon as we arrived and began scrambling over the rocks (our party had grown) one of the parents could be seen flying away from the site, low and fast and quiet. But tucked into a pocket in the rock face, perhaps twenty feet above the ocean was a jumbled nest. The bulk of the nest was made up of Arctic Willow sticks (gathered with a considerable amount of effort I would think), but it was lined with man made objects, cloth and I believe a small pillow. A single chick lay low in the nest, outstretched so as to show no profile that might belie its presence.
I dutifully fired off some photos, using a flash thanks to the heavily overcast days we have had, and the lateness of the hour. And after everyone, including my young naturalist, had had a look, we left. As we left the rocks I again saw the parent, low over the ice, heading back to check on her charge.
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