Two More Lifers!

It's been an odd spring for birds so far, at least from what I'm hearing on the birdvine. I suspect the weather is to blame--it got warm early, then cooled off, then started flip-flopping from chilly to hot to chilly, and it has been very dry. I know it has made me unsettled, and I suspect birds are reacting as well, with a kind of, "Oh, let's just get where we're going and not hang around so those people with binoculars can stare."

But I'm not complaining--I've added two birds to my life list in the last two weeks. The first, I'm very proud of because I found it all by myself here at camp--a Yellow-bellied Flycatcher. I had a near miss with one a few years ago here--seen, but not well enough to identify. They aren't awfully rare, just not common. So I listened to a recording of the Flycatcher's song to make it fresh in my brain, and the next day, I heard one while I was sitting outside. (Sounds a lot like a Least Flycatcher, but the "chee bek" call is not repeated as often.) I followed the song through the woods for half an hour, and finally got a clear look at the bird on a branch against the sky. It was much like a Phoebe, only yellower. It was the song that made me sure. I haven't heard him since, so I'm sure he's travelled on, and I was very lucky. 

Then I started seeing eBird reports of a Cerulean Warbler, much more rare, in Woodside Park in Colchester. I was a little doubtful of my luck since warblers are hard to see and not known for hanging around. But when I arrived, there was a handful of birders already there, looking intently into the trees. I got excited, but it turns out they were just hearing it, not seeing it, high in trees down a bank on the other side of a fence. And then it stopped singing. We waited and waited, but it did not resume. Then another group of birders arrived, and they beckoned to us--it was singing over near where we'd parked. So we rushed over there and stood and stared, but it remained out of sight. I was starting to get that familiar sinking feeling when yet another group of birders arrived. Fresh eyes did the trick, and we all got quick peeks at the Cerulean's lovely blue feathers as it fed on insects high up in the canopy. There are definite benefits to birding with others, and I am always amazed at the comradery that exists between total strangers who recognize kinship with others who have a pair of binoculars around their necks.

One night last week just after sunset, I heard a Whippoorwill. I can remember hearing them as a child while lying in bed at night, the mournful repetitions through the darkness that always resulted in the sound of my father's footsteps thundering down the stairs. It's probably been forty years since I heard one here, and the sound caught me and held me motionless until it fell silent. Then I grabbed my binoculars and thundered down the stairs, but it stayed silent. I sat outside and listened for almost an hour, but there were only the sound of the waves, and thousands of mosquitoes droning. I really was hoping to see the Whippoorwill, because I never have, and therefore can't count it. Someday...

It's all part of what makes birding so special.