Birds? What Birds? A Day of Mushrooms, Stellar Jays and One Very Cooperative Flicker - Sept 19, 2026

Over the summer, my adventuring mojo seemed to disappear.

I’m not entirely sure where it went. Normally, I’m quite happy to grab my camera, head somewhere new and spend hours wandering around looking for birds, wildlife, or whatever else happens to cross my path. But this summer, getting myself out the door somehow became harder than it should have been.

So I decided it was time to stop waiting to feel adventurous again. I packed up my camera, loaded Finnegan into the car, and off we went for a day trip to Ladysmith.

The plan was simple: find birds. Ladysmith apparently had other ideas.

Welcome to the Mushroom Planet

Instead of birds, the forest seemed determined to show us mushrooms. And not just normal, polite little mushrooms quietly minding their own business. These things looked like they had arrived from another planet.

Bright yellow ones. Orange ones. Strange clusters growing out of logs and moss. Giant bizarre-looking fungi that made me stop every few feet and think, What on earth is THAT?

Did you know? — Dyer’s Polypore

Dyer’s Polypore gets its name because it has traditionally been used to dye wool and other fibres. Depending on the age of the fungus and the dyeing process, it can produce shades ranging from bright yellow and gold to deep brown and olive.

Dyer’s Polypore — Big orange forest pancake capable of dyeing wool.

Before long, my bird photography outing had turned into an accidental mushroom safari.

Did you know? — Dog Vomit Slime Mold

Despite its unfortunate name, Dog Vomit Slime Mold isn’t actually a fungus. It’s a slime mold — and during part of its life cycle, it can slowly creep across logs, bark and forest debris as it searches for food. Basically, a tiny yellow forest blob that moves. 😄

 Dog Vomit Slime Mold — Fuligo septicaNeon-yellow blob that isn't technically a fungus and can move.

I know almost nothing about mushrooms, which probably made them even more entertaining. Every new one felt like discovering some tiny alien civilization growing on the forest floor.

Not exactly what I had set out to photograph, but honestly? They were fantastic.

These are likely Jumbo Gyms.

Did you know?

Jumbo Gyms are aptly named: as they mature, individual caps can grow to dinner-plate proportions, and they often appear in big golden-orange clusters on decaying conifer wood. What starts out looking like a tiny colony of woodland marshmallows can become one of the most conspicuous mushrooms in a coastal forest.

We did eventually find birds.

Sort of.

A few Stellar jays appeared, apparently just long enough to remind me that photographing birds is mostly an exercise in frustration.

They were everywhere and nowhere at exactly the same time — hopping, flying, disappearing behind branches and moving approximately half a second before I pressed the shutter.

I tried. Oh, I tried.

Getting am amazing photograph of one felt nearly impossible.

There is something humbling about standing in the woods with a camera, waiting patiently for the perfect shot while a bird basically says, Absolutely not. Still, the chase was fun. And sometimes that’s the whole point.

“Excuse me, human! This is my nut, and I will defend it with my tiny woodland life.”

Then, completely unexpectedly, a wild rabbit appeared.

Because apparently when you go looking for birds, nature gives you mushrooms and rabbits.

It was one of those lovely little surprises that makes wandering worthwhile. You never really know what you’re going to find when you head outside with a camera.

That unpredictability is probably one of the things I love most about it.

You can have a plan.

Nature does not care.

Finn's Review of the Scenery: Meh.

Eventually we made our way down toward the water, where the views were absolutely beautiful.

Wide stretches of shoreline. Rocks exposed by the tide. Pools of water catching the sky. That wonderful Vancouver Island combination of ocean, forest and open space that immediately makes everything feel quieter.

I loved it.

Finnegan was considerably less impressed.

He enjoyed the adventure, the exploring, the trails and the general opportunity to inspect everything within sniffing distance.

But the sweeping coastal scenery?

Not particularly interesting.

I’m fairly certain his review would have been:

Water: 3/10.

Interesting smells: 10/10.

Would adventure again.

Fair enough.

And Then Came the Flicker

Just when I had more or less accepted that this wasn't going to be much of a bird photography day, a juvenile Northern Flicker appeared.

And sat still. Actually sat still. Long enough for me to take photographs.

I was shocked.

Northern Flickers are such beautiful birds, and after spending part of the day trying to photograph blue jays who apparently had somewhere extremely important to be, having this young flicker patiently pose felt like a gift.

Sometimes all it takes is one bird. One moment when the light, the wildlife and your camera cooperate. Suddenly the whole day feels worth it.

Maybe That Was the Point

Looking back, I didn't come home with the collection of bird photographs I'd imagined when we left.

The birds were scarce. But the day was still good.

I had beautiful scenery, bizarre alien mushrooms, ridiculously fast blue jays, a surprise rabbit, one wonderfully cooperative juvenile flicker and, most importantly, good company.

Finn had a great day.

And I got myself outside again.

Maybe that was the real success of the trip.

Sometimes adventure doesn't have to be spectacular. Sometimes you just have to put the camera in the car, take your little black cat along for the ride and go see what happens.

Because even when you don't find what you were looking for, you usually find something.

And now fall is arriving. Which means migration.

More birds. Different birds. Unexpected visitors passing through. Cool mornings, changing leaves and hopefully plenty of excuses to get outside with my camera again.

My adventuring mojo may have taken the summer off. But I think it's starting to come back. And I can't wait to see what flies through next.