Christmas bird count: swans a swimming

Terry with Sheila Stein on a guided nature tour on the Millennium Trail.

The ice shifts close to the shoreline off Huyck’s Point: Nicholson and Scotch Bonnet islands lie moored to a slate horizon; at Consecon creek, three swans shelter beneath the bridge by Pigtail Lane. This freezing rain affair has made a spectacle of the landscape: the pines bow from the heavens to the ice-fields below; the place looks as though it’s held together with pipe cleaners.

And so here we have it. The twelve days are upon us with drummers drumming; French hens humming, hares-a-running and the lords, gawd love them, leaping. There are various interpretations of the cumulative song, The Twelve Days of Christmas: It was first published in England in 1780. Some faiths claim there are coded messages in it; others state that the gold rings are pheasants or goldfinches. The interpretation I buy into is that the fowl on the list were contributions to the slowcookers of the day. Like pigeon pie for example. I mean most everything that roamed the land, including snakes, turtles, ants, song birds and so on, made it to the table back then. Food fashions were dictated by sourcing local habitats. Until, that is, we depleted enough wildlife species from regions that it was thought that farming was a better idea: not only that, but some species needed to survive because, believe it or not, the lords demanded enough quarry to carry on with their sport-hunt.

So I stand here by the creek pondering all of this; icicles grow around the brim of my hat; I concede that consultation is the thing to do. I’ll go right to the top and track down Terry Sprague, the ‘bird man’ as he is often affectionately titled. Not only that, I quickly catch onto the concept that sipping café Americano in the comfort of Miss Lily’s in Picton makes a heck of a lot more sense than ‘field research’ on a day like today.

“I’m still flattered when referred to as the bird man,” Terry begins. “But while I grew up on a farm on Big Island and we raised chickens, to answer your question about French hens, my knowledge there is, well, limited.” Ok, ok let’s move on to swans. “There are three kinds in the region – mute, tundra and the trumpeter swan. The latter was originally native to here, but was killed off through over-hunting. The feathers were used for ladies hats.”

Before we go too far I’m curious where the ‘bird man’ story starts. “I’ve been interested in birding since grades six, seven and eight: SS #14, Sophiasburgh on Big Island,” Terry replies. “We had a teacher who, using the phrase of the era, was a ‘bird watcher’. The contemporary term ‘birding’ is more all-encompassing. We like it better. Anyway, she stimulated my interest beyond what wildlife interests I already had”, he says, as he sips on his coffee. “She had all these bird feeders around which gave me the idea. While my mother had cats, we sorted out an arrangement where I could also have feeders. Observation leads to studying migration and it grows from there.”

What about note-taking and the like, I inquire. “Interestingly, while I never had much of a focus to write, I would send in letters to the editor of the Picton Gazette about different birds I had spotted. Phil Dodds, who was the editor then, suggested that I write a column. ‘I could never come up with something every week was my reply’. Have something on my desk for Monday morning he urged. That was December 1965. Since then, I have always been writing a column somewhere, which has widened the scope for research.”

Where did things go from there, I ask. “When the farm was sold in 1976, I got a job at the Glenora fisheries, which led to a job at Sandbanks provincial park. It was there that I began hikes and nature programs,” Terry shares. “A lot of people came to the park for the beaches, but we wanted to tell them that there was a lot more than ‘some sand and some more’. I soon realized that many visitors had little concept of natural forces at work—the creation of the dunes and all. Later, I worked for Quinte Conservation developing outdoor programs: now I do nature programs as a private undertaking.”

I’m curious about what holds your audience: “Guided hikes that tell a story,” Terry affirms. “The evolution of species and how human and natural history tie in are what people like. A growing number of seniors are enjoying the company of guided hikes. They often have knowledge on topics where I am less acquainted. Beaver Meadow by East Lake Road is a perennial favourite for hikes. Sandbanks tops the list in the region, but places like Frontenac provincial park, near Kingston, offers mining, farming, hunting and fishing histories that are great. Then there are old growth forests near the Moira karst, which is a limestone outcrop within the Canadian Shield. The Roblin Hell-holes north of Napanee also have old growth forest growing in the cracks of limestone rock.”