It’s said that if you expect nothing, you can never be disappointed, and this was the attitude that I started out with today as I headed for the Metz in search of Snowy Owls. Finding these birds seemed like some combination of spotting a needle in a haystack and a polar bear in a snowstorm (more so the latter as the weather worsened), but I managed to rustle up two adult females while slowly patrolling the back roads. The first I should have missed, being only a slight aberration against a line of distance fence posts though the falling snow, but for once luck was on my side. The other bird was found during my second loop of the area, this one nearer the road (and my scope).

I went for a walk on Sunday afternoon while visiting the folks. My old dog Max accompanied me for the first time since last spring, looking better than he had in months. For reasons unknown he’d begun to shed his winter coat in the middle of January, and I snapped a photo of the spontaneous fur explosion.

Dad dropped by this morning to pick up some installation disks that I’d been hanging on to, and told me that the old boy passed away late last night. I’ll miss my buddy.

LaSalle was teeming with its usual winter waterfowl this morning.  Common Goldeneye, White-winged Scoter, Greater Scaup and a few Common Merganser dove offshore.  Bufflehead and American Coot used the confusion of ducks and geese for cover as they scooted in for a share of the handouts.  At the far end of the marina, a raft of Canvasback could be seen huddling together in the middle of the bay.

It began to rain as I left the marina, and by the time I hit the top of the escarpment near Stoney Creek it had become a very wet, driving snow.  A hunting American Kestrel kept me entertained while I sat in the car waiting for the weather to improve.

Eventually the snow began to abate, and I headed down the tracks with another newly arrived birder in search of the Hawk Owl.  He was in the same group of trees I’d found him previously, and after two more trips back to the car (once for the baseplate I’d forgotten, and again for another sketchbook when I realized I’d used up my last page on the kestrel), I hung around to enjoy him for a good hour.

I’ve had only fleeting glimpses of the Bohemian Waxwings in the Arb this winter, but Guelph’s other visiting attraction, the Pine Grosbeaks, are much more approachable. Numbers vary from a handful to several hundred, but if one spends a little time by the crab apple trees behind the university’s Bovey Building, they’re bound to show up.