I’ve been spending a lot of time in a place called Oro-Medonte, Ontario. My parents live there (Mum 86, Dad 90), on the old cottage property of my childhood, running down to the western shore of Lake Simcoe. A combination of various family emergencies kept me at the Oro house for close to two months, and put a brake on my plans for ambitious birding activity in 2024. Having spotted 202 species in my first year of counting, I was hoping to exceed that number, but would have to travel regularly to do so, since last year’s count included birds in both England and Iceland. Best laid plans, and all that.

That these two lost birding months were the North American spring migration was a tragic fact not lost on me. Waves of warblers did come through the property, and I managed to get out onto the deck and identify many of them, but travelling for rarities was out of the question. Instead, I sat at my temporary home desk, monitoring eBird for all of my unseen target species that would remain unseen.

*A Cape May Warbler* (Setophaga tigrina) in the sour cherry tree I planted for my folks a dozen years ago.

Oro is situated on the traditional lands of the Huron-Wendat, with many important archeological sites remaining in the area. The corridor between Lake Simcoe and Georgian Bay on Lake Huron was considered important enough for special military attention before, during, and after the War of 1812 between the United States and the British settlements to their north. In 1819, Black veterans of the war were offered land grants in Oro in order to keep military experience and preparedness in the region. That community declined over time, with settlers moving south for better farmland. The Oro African Methodist Episcopal Church on Line 3 of Oro-Medonte is now a national heritage site, and the sole remaining evidence of Oro’s Black history.

*The Oro African Methodist Episcopal Church, as painted by me.*

I love that old church building. I’ve photographed it many times, and even used it as the subject for a small oil painting I attempted in an art class years ago. Visiting it again in May on a Saturday when the church was open to the public, I was delighted to hear an Indigo Bunting (Passerina cyanea) sing out from the pine tree in the churchyard. Once you start paying attention to birds, you can’t not see them, apparently. I did not manage a photo of that bunting, and couldn’t give it the time and attention I might normally — I was on my way back from a Costco run for my mother — but it was a welcome distraction from various worries.

And that became my new hobby. Incidental birding between chores and duties. Driving from supermarket to pharmacy, from hospital to hardware store — I chose my routes for landscape rather than speed, keeping my eyes on the road, but also on the fields, ponds, and telephone wires. I started to see this very familiar community in new ways. There’s the turtle crossing; there’s the old guy who builds and sells nest boxes (I bought one!); there’s the bunting tree; there’s where I caught a flash of scarlet on a Rose-breasted Grosbeak (Pheucticus ludovicianus). I did actually manage a photo of that flashy fellow.

*This photo of a Rose-breasted Grosbeak took a lot of patient searching on a very busy rural road. Thanks to everyone who slowed down when they saw me.*

*A Yellow-rumped Warbler (*Setophaga coronata) displaying its most distinctive feature.

And THAT is where I saw the… goose? Swan? What the heck was that?

I’d only caught the quickest glance of it, far out on a shallow pond, as my car zoomed between field and bushland. So, I made it a habit to cruise by that pond as often as my chores allowed, bringing binoculars and the long lens. It was, in fact, a Trumpeter Swan (Cygnus buccinator)… the largest flying creature in North America. So large, in fact, I started worrying that it had found itself trapped on too small a waterway. I’ve usually only seen Trumpeters on the Great Lakes, where they have a near endless runway for the long and loud takeoff they employ. Anything under 100 meters is going to pose a challenge for a full-grown Trumpeter. Also, it seemed to be alone at a time of the year when swans should be paired up and nesting. I kept my eye on the beautiful creature, worrying every night as I heard the cackles of coyotes through my window in the dark. I even contacted a group called Trumpeter Swan Conservation Ontario, as I know Trumpeters have long been closely monitored on their return from endangerment. While glad to hear of my sighting, the TSCO was as concerned as I was that this bird might be alone.

And then, one afternoon, I came slowly down the road and saw this:

*A family of Trumpeter Swans. I will not tell you exactly where I saw them.*

My best guess is the swan I was seeing for days on end was the male of the pair, gathering food for himself and the female sitting on eggs on the nest somewhere hidden on the pond’s far shore. Worries cancelled, TSCO relieved and now monitoring a happy new family of swans. And by “new” I mean previously untracked. It is very common to come across Trumpeters with large yellow number tags prominently attached to one wing. Various conservation organizations use these markers to track, study and care for the wild population from a distance. No tags on this young couple, and so an exciting find for the cause of swan conservation… or swanservation, if you will.

Some Quick Do’s and Do Nots for Swanservation

Do observe from a respectful distance.
Do not approach nesting sites.
Do not feed wild swans.
Do record any tag numbers, and report all sightings to the TSCO or the Trumpeter Swan Society if not in Ontario
Do make note of any distress or injury and report immediately
Do not identify exact location of swans on social media posts