When I drive downtown from my West Creston home, I often spot a bald eagle perched on the limb of a bare cottonwood tree. He generally sits on the same branch high above the Kootenay River, majestic in his white-feathered cap. I’ve grown used to looking up for him — I’ve always thought of the eagle as male — and have caught myself more than once raising my hand in a neighbourly greeting. Is he aware of my passing as he studies the water?
Like others in Creston Valley, I live among the birds. The forests and wetlands near my home are habitat for many species and a good resting spot for migratory birds. Thankfully, winged creatures of all shapes and sizes are common in every season. I witness the flight of geese heading south as the weather cools and am reminded that spring has arrived when friendly hummingbirds buzz at my kitchen window.
A few years ago, my husband installed a bird feeder beside our deck. Close to a stand of tall fir trees, it became a big hit with our feathered friends. At breakfast times, we’re entertained by the flurry of activity as birds swoop in for morning morsels and dart back to their hidden nests. A few bully their way into the seed tray; some appear to work in pairs; others perch patiently on the deck railing, waiting their own turn to grab and dash. Small nuthatches slip through the narrow opening at the top of the feeder and wallow in the clear container of seeds — the tiny acrobats of the flock.
Last fall, my sister from Australia visited our home for a few weeks. The morning show at the feeder delighted her. Chickadees, she thought, were the cutest of the bunch and she recalled a scene from the 1937 Disney movie, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Cute black-capped birds perched on Snow White’s cartoon finger as she sang “Whistle While You Work”, then lifted washed clothing onto a cartoon clothesline. A flashy blue Steller’s jay with its cocky tuft of black head feathers reminded my sister of the dark-haired street gang in the 1961 musical West Side Story: “When you’re a Jet, you’re a Jet all the way…” Who needs a scientific guide to Canadian bird life when they have a sibling with a love of classic movies?
Of course, not all my feathered neighbours are as majestic as eagles or as cute as chickadees. Some are much bigger and more gangling; messier and noisier. They arrive on foot in flocks of 30 or more and rouse the sleeping with their irritating chirps. You guessed it: the wild turkeys.
Turkeys are a fairly recent addition to our property, perhaps because we were dog owners for many years. Two summers ago, we spotted a ground nest of 12 turkey eggs and left them undisturbed. Eventually the fluffy chicks hatched and waddled around our property with their turkey elders. Pretty cute, we thought. Until they matured, and felt free to explore our carport and deck. I looked up from my reading chair one afternoon to see a large female looking at me through the sliding glass door, about three feet away. She peered in, pooped and padded off. Far too up close and personal!
For the past few months, turkeys have been absent from our property and street. Perhaps they migrated closer to Evans Road, as one neighbour suggested. Perhaps they became low-fat meals for the coyotes and larger predators. The good old food chain.
As residents of Creston Valley, we are fortunate to live in a part of the world where spotting eagles, geese, ospreys, herons or an array of smaller birds is a common occurrence. Some people travel great distances at great expense to see wild birds in their natural habitat. Thankfully, most of us need only take a short drive or a short walk, or simply look out of our windows.
Margaret Miller is a longtime resident of the Creston Valley.
