The elusive least bittern
Listed on the endangered species list, we are fortunate to have a decent population of least bitterns in the region
Every spring I look forward to the arrival of the least bitterns, the smallest members of the heron family. These tiny herons are not much bigger than a robin. Most people have never seen a least bittern. They are listed as threatened on the endangered species list so they are not a very common bird to find in most places; however, we are very fortunate to have a pretty decent population of them here in the Kawartha Lakes region. They have been spotted in many of the local marshes and wetlands around us.
The other reason many people have not seen them is that they hide very well. When you are that small it is in your best interest to stay hidden or you may become somebody’s lunch.
As serene as they may appear the wetland can be a dangerous place if you do not have defences. Therefore, if you do spot these elusive birds it is very important not to give their location away, or intrude on their way of life and risk further endangering them.
Least bitterns hide their nests very well in among the bulrushes and usually raise three or four young ones each year. The adults are very secretive, going to and from the nest so that other animals do not find its location.
They are experts at moving quickly and silently through the grasses of the wetland. They are also very good at catching fish, frogs and insects like dragonflies to take back to the nest for the young ones. Like most herons, they store their catches in a pouch in their throat to bring back to the young.
The young bitterns mature very quickly and fledge from the nest only two to three weeks after hatching. Even though they have left the nest they are still completely dependent on the parents for food and cannot fly. They huddle together at first, hidden in the cattails waiting for the mother or father to bring food.
As the adult approaches with food it calls out to let the young ones know that it is coming. The young ones rush toward the adult and there is pandemonium in the battle to be the one to be fed. Each young one tries to get there first and grab the adult’s beak to receive the bounty the adult is carrying in its pouch.
The competition is very aggressive and looks vicious. It would appear to an onlooker as if they are trying to tear the adult’s face off, but the adult does what it has to and passes its catch directly from its throat into the throat of one of the young ones.
Then it immediately flies off to go catch more food. As the young ones grow and mature, which they do very quickly, they begin to separate and spread out through the wetland or marsh. All of the tools the young bitterns need to survive seem to be built into their genetics.
The adults do not spend any time showing the young how to catch fish or prey. The young just begin stabbing at anything that moves and seem to know that the water below them holds special significance. They spend a lot of time staring into it but not really understanding why. Then, as the switches turn on, they begin stabbing at fish, frogs and tadpoles.
Although clumsy at first, they quickly learn the art of moving through the marsh with great dexterity and agility. In no time they become adept at catching prey, grabbing dragonflies right out of mid-air and catching small fish with lightning strikes. By late summer they are independent.
As fall approaches the bitterns will leave to go south for the winter. I never like to see them go and look forward to their return next spring.