Is it a bird?

What would you say if I asked you to name your favourite flower? I'm guessing many people would choose roses or daffodils, perhaps peonies or iris. My own choice, without a moment's hesitation, would be lily-of-the-valley. 

A good friend once surprised me by picking bird-of-paradise as their best-loved bloom. At the time, I wasn't sure I'd even heard of such a fabulous plant, let alone seen one. But that was before I moved to my west Toronto condo, a short trek away from Centennial Park and one of the city's loveliest conservatories. I walk there often. 

Last week, rounding a corner in the lush tropical house, I came face to face with this spectacular specimen.

Bird-of-Paradise (Strelitzia), also known as Crane Flower (you can see why!), is native to South Africa. Isn't it glorious? Almost as fierce and flamboyant as the friend who loves it!

So... what's your favourite flower?

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stillpoint is the blog of Canadian author Cheryl Cooke Harrington

birds in the hood...

I go walking almost every day. Sometimes just around the block or through the neighbouring park - mostly soccer fields and playgrounds. But when I have the time, my walks take me further afield to some of Toronto's loveliest public gardens and wild places. I've started taking my camera with me because you never know what you'll encounter.

This little family of robins was sheltered in a big Norfolk pine at Centennial Park Conservatory in Etobicoke. I might have passed by without seeing them if not for the pleas of three very hungry nestlings. When mama spotted me watching, she froze. Right on cue, the little ones froze, too, mouths open, mid-peep. I backed away and mealtime resumed with a raucous chorus of "feed-me, feed-me, feed-me".

Here's another handsome robin, singing his "cheerily-cheer-up-cheer-up" song. His tree is in a woodland in Colonel Samuel Smith Park on the shore of Lake Ontario in Etobicoke. American Robins are a common sight in the city but, even so, they're among my favourite birds. Maybe it's because seeing the first robin of the year is a sure sign that winter is finally over. (If you've ever experienced a Toronto winter, you understand why that's so very important.)

On another day in the same woodland, I heard a peculiar song - a kind of burbling, high-pitched, happy trill. I'd heard the song before but was never lucky enough to spot the bird, so I was pretty pleased with this photo. Back home, I consulted my go-to bird ID web site, All About Birds (Cornell Lab of Ornithology), and identified this handsome fellow as a Brown-headed Cowbird. Interesting factoid: the female cowbird lays her eggs (many, many eggs) in the nests of other birds, then mama and papa go their merry ways, leaving their babies to be fostered by others. No wonder this guy's song sounds so carefree!

This next fellow has a call that reminds me of finger nails on a blackboard, followed by a scolding "chuk-chuk". In the shade, the Brewer's Blackbird may look a bit plain but caught in the sunshine, his glossy feathers gleam iridescent blue and green.

Whenever I'm in Sam Smith Park, I make sure to visit the lake shore to see the Red-necked grebes. A local bird lover has made a series of floating platforms near the marina, each one the perfect size for a nesting grebe. This one has been in use for many years. I'm hoping to see little ones swimming nearby with mom and pop in the coming weeks.

A bit farther out in the harbour, this cormorant put on a show, dancing a two-step as he dried out his wings. A gusty wind was buffeting both of us, so not the best focus for this shot, but I love the menacing look of him.

A short walk inland brings us to a lush wetland and pond, teeming with fish, turtles, snakes, and myriad birds both large and small. This beautiful Mute Swan has no trouble ignoring the humans ooh-ing and aah-ing just a few feet from her nest. 

When mama swan needs a break, papa takes over nest-sitting duties. I believe this is the second clutch of the year for this pair and was happy to see three eggs in the nest. Conservation officers oiled eggs earlier in the year as part of a program to manage over-population, so the first clutch was lost. I understand why it's necessary - Mute Swans aren't native here and because they're so aggressive, they may drive off native Trumpeter Swans as well as other native wetland species. Sad, though. They are beautiful birds. I can't help but hope to see three little cygnets here in a few weeks.

Not far from the nesting swans, this handsome Great Blue Heron was stalking his fishy prey. Slow and steady ... dive, dive, dive! Drat. Missed it.

The crane just couldn't catch a break. This Red-winged Blackbird and his friends seemed determined to drive him away.

I would have happily spent all day watching the soap opera life of the marsh unfold, but the sun was high and I was feeling the first tingle of sunburn on my nose. It was time to get my ducks in a row...

A brief rant before I sign off. Please don't feed the ducks! (Or the swans, or the geese.) They may share the city with us but they're wild creatures. Bread is nothing like their natural diet (seeds, aquatic vegetation, insect larvae, earthworms, snails, freshwater shrimp). Bread is actually bad for them. But don't take my word for it...

"Ducks that are regularly fed bread can become malnourished, aggressive towards one another, may lose their foraging instincts and can lose their natural fear of people. Also, bread that isn't eaten can result in nutrient build-up and increased algae growth. Feeding wild ducks is a practice CWF does not encourage." - Canadian Wildlife Federation

Got it?

Rant over. And Mr. Mallard has an itch. Quacks me up every time. ;- )

Are you a bird watcher? Bird lover? What's the most unusual bird you've encountered? 

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stillpoint is the blog of Canadian author Cheryl Cooke Harrington

photos of 2015

Since retiring from The Day Job in May of 2015, I've tried to make a habit of carrying my camera wherever I go. As you might imagine, this has resulted in an ever-expanding photo library and plenty of story inspiration. Over the holidays, I took some time to look through all those images of people, places and beautiful things, and chose a few favourites to share. (Click to enlarge.)

Apple blossoms at Colonel Samuel Smith Park on Lake Ontario in Toronto. I love the way the focus "pops" on this one. And the colours of spring!

This male Mallard duck, kept a close eye on me as he paddled. I realized later that his mate was sleeping nearby, perfectly camouflaged by beach pebbles. I can't help but smile when I see those little orange feet and the reflected sparkle of sun-warmed water on his breast.  

Old man turtle found a sunny spot to lounge by the pond in the conservatory at Centennial Park in Toronto. Just look at that smug expression. Turtles play an important part in Rock Solid, so I'm a real sucker for a guy in a handsome shell.

This gorgeous blue heron was fishing in the Grand River in Cambridge, Ontario while I lunched with a friend at a riverside restaurant. He did eventually catch a little fish and gobble it down. Not far away, this fisher woman kept him company. She didn't seem to be having much luck, though. 

No filters on this photo - that's exactly how the river looked. Fast water and lots of reflection. I love the effect!

Lake Ontario at the Village of Wellington in Prince Edward County. A storm blew through the night before and remnant winds and waves made walking a bit wild. My favourite beach weather!

Purple mystery flowers. That's not botanical, it really is a mystery. If anyone can identify this lovely plant, please let me know in the comments. Not native to my part of the world, this was taken in the tropical house at Toronto's Centennial Park Conservatory. UPDATE, January 8, 2016: Thanks to blog visitor Bec and Facebook commenter Ian who identified this lovely plant as Duranta Sapphire Showers.

I snapped several photos of this handsome Ring-billed Gull at Long Branch Park in Toronto. I like the movement in this shot and call it "on patrol". He seems to be marching to his own drummer.

No collection of favourites would be complete without a portrait of himself, Sam the Cat. Here, he's intently focussed on something only he can see. Fierce concentration. (Spooky.)

Lake Ontario on a sunny winter day. I marvel at how swans, ducks and other water fowl seem so unruffled by cold. This photo captured a drop of water just as it fell from the swan's beak. Elegant profile.

Back to Centennial Park Conservatory for this last image from 2015. The Christmas flower show featured spectacular displays of poinsettias but my eye was drawn to this glorious candy cane amaryllis.

My photo goals for 2016 are (1) to seek the unusual and (2) to cultivate patience. The patience part will, I hope, result in a few more successful bird photos. Thus far, I've been mostly foiled by their tendency to watch me point and focus, then flit away (laughing) just as I click the shutter. Maybe I'll have more luck if I pick my spot and settle in quietly to wait and watch. Well... worth a try.

Wishing you a 2016 full of beautiful things.

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stillpoint is the blog of Canadian author Cheryl Cooke Harrington

  

little house of horrors...

Last month on one of my afternoon rambles I ventured into the conservatory at Centennial Park in Etobicoke. It's one of my favourite Toronto destinations, especially on gloomy days when I can imagine myself lost in some lush, tropical jungle complete with towering palms, exotic birds, and colourful fish.

The glasshouse has three distinct sections. In the central and largest room live the tropical palms and pomegranates, banana trees, orchids, hibiscus, and myriad other visitors from warmer climes, including Angel, the resident Australian Cockatoo.

Palms and Tropicals

Goldfish in the Pond

Phalaenopsis Orchids

Angel the Cockatoo - Official Greeter

To the north, is an ever-changing garden room where visitors are treated to whimsical displays celebrating the changing seasons.

Easter Egg Tree

Spring Blooms

Christmas Pageant

The southern house is home to a glorious desert habitat, teeming with other-worldly silhouettes; strange beings armed with threatening spines and thorns. Unexpected blooms surprise and delight – everything from tiny, perfect petals on prickly Euphorbia splendens, to flashy spikes of crimson and yellow on the giant Aloe vera.

A Prickly Situation

Euphorbia splendens (Crown of Thorns)

Aloe vera in bloom

But on that cloudy August afternoon, I encountered something very peculiar indeed among the cacti and succulents… a tangle of lumps and bumps spreading tentacle-like, stretching ever closer to the door as if plotting escape. And from the tip of one of those tentacles sprouted two long, smooth stalks with massive flower buds – so heavy they couldn't stand erect. I swear they seemed to grow even larger while I stared in fascination. I even began to imagine they were staring right back at me like Audrey II, that infamous person-eater in Little Shop of Horrors. Could this little monster be Audrey III?

Is it just me, or can you imagine those puckery lines as a mouth?

I'm almost certain I saw the largest bloom shudder ever so slightly as I inched closer to aim my camera. It seemed to swell, like a pale, fleshy balloon. (It couldn't be breathing, could it?) Thankfully, Audrey didn't object to being photographed and I escaped unscathed into the tropical house where I tried but failed to find someone who might answer my questions about the sinister plant. My imagination took over. What if, just like the hapless victims in Little Shop, the missing greenhouse staff had all been devoured by the very thing consigned to their care?

Safely home, I searched the web for some hint of what the creepy creeping cactus might be. No luck. I would have to go back. And so, armed with my camera (to document potential horrors), and wearing running shoes (just in case), I returned the next morning to investigate.

The doors to the hothouse were closed when I arrived. I peered through the window. No sign of human life. When I eased the door open and stepped through, I found Audrey III still lounging on her brick wall.

She looked almost regal, I thought, but quite a lot puffier than she'd been the day before. That's when I noticed another of her kind peeking out from behind a rock. Closer inspection revealed another… and another. Audrey had a posse. I backed slowly away.

Rounding a corner in the tropical house I happened upon a lanky man in dusty blue overalls, grooming the Phalaenopsis. I was in luck. I'd found one of the conservatory's horticulturalists. He brushed wisps of fine, sandy hair away from his face as he stooped to peer at Audrey III's image on my camera display. 

"Ah!" he said, in a softly accented voice. "Stapelia. He sounded it out, "Sta-pee-lee-ahh. Come, I tell you." And he led me back to the hothouse to examine Audrey again. 

"You come tomorrow," he said, pointing at the largest of Audrey's flower buds. "This bloom will open. See how it…" He paused to think and made an extravagant gesture with both hands. "It looks inflated, yes? And here" he pointed at the lines I'd imagined as Audrey's mouth, "see how she starts to darken and pucker? You come again tomorrow."

Not only a mouth. Now Audrey III seems to be forming eyes!

When I thanked him for his time, the man pinched his nose and grinned. "It will be kind of… stinky."

Suddenly, the light dawned. Audrey III might not be a person-eater, but there was definitely something uniquely horrible about her. Stapelia gigantea (toad plant or carrion plant) is a cunning trickster. It needs lots and lots of flies to ensure pollination and attracts them by emitting a foul, rotting corpse smell. Stinky indeed! I vowed to return the next day to witness Audrey in all her putrid, full-blooming glory.

Day Three: Audrey curls her lip, ready to bloom.

Day Four: Stapelia gigantea

Stapelia, aka toad plant or carrion plant in full, stinky bloom. 

In fact, I returned three times before Audrey's bloom opened wide. I guess she was waiting for a perfect sunny day to make her début. Lanky-man was right. Stinky! The neighbourhood flies were much impressed. I decided against a return visit. If Audrey makes that much stink on her own, imagine the stench when her friends join the fly-baiting fun!

stillpoint is the blog of Canadian author Cheryl Cooke Harrington