May 22: Warblers

hearing their songs
over the adding machine
spring warblers

May 28: Birds and blossoms

Chestnut-sided Warbler

What's more beautiful

than a host of warblers

poised among apple blossoms?

 

Blackburnian Warbler

 

 

Posted with Blogsy

May 16 - 18: Back on Monhegan

Spent the past three days on Monhegan Island, about 15 miles off the coast of Maine in Muscongus Bay. While this incredibly scenic place is an artist colony and a popular tourist destination, this time of year it's all about the birds. Monhegan lies in the Atlantic flyway and is a notorious migrant trap; many species rarely seen anywhere else in Maine show up there during the spring and fall flights.

 

It's still early spring out there, with leaves just budding and only the earliest of flowers blooming. Intermittent thick fog added to the chill. But the birds, the birds were on the move, impelled north by forces they don't understand, adding color, and joy, to the spare island landscape.

 

Manana Goats

 

Back on the island

goats loosed for summer--

their joy is mine.

 

 

Burnt Head in Fog

 

Shifting island fog

reveals in surf below

errant buoys, eiders.

 

 

Hooded Warbler

 

Early morning calm--

hers is the only motion,

yellow of first light.

 

 

Orioles

 

A bounty of orange

appearing, disappearing--

hungry for more.

 

 

 

 

Posted with Blogsy

May 5: What returns

Warblers singing--

still lying across the trail,

winter's broken boughs.

Posted with Blogsy

May 4: Birdsong

I heard the song of the Black-and-white Warbler, which sounds like a squeaky wheel turning, on my walk to work this morning. One of the earliest warblers to arrive each spring, this was the first one I'd heard this year.

 

Warbler song--

the warmest weather rolls in

on its squeaky wheels.

 

Posted with Blogsy

May 19: Warbler wave

This morning as I was leaving for work, I stopped to look at a bird in the backyard and realized that dozens of warblers were flitting through the new leaves, a wave of beauty and song.

The best part:
the way they moved,
singing, through the trees.

May 15: Yellow Warbler

From inside the office

I hear it singing

down by the river.

Posted with Blogsy

May 27: Dead bird

Some migrating birds get this far in their journey and still don't make it. Today a dead kingbird was found on a beach. We could tell by its prominent breastbone, sharp through its soft feathers, that the bird had completely depleted its fat stores. It had flown thousands of miles from South America this spring, only to starve in the fog on a small Maine island.

The kingbird wasn't the only dead bird found. But the other casualties, a Canada Warbler and two yellowthroats found in the middle of a trail, were victims of cats--a fate somehow even more tragic than simple depletion and exhaustion.

Dead kingbird in hand--
sad discovery of sharp bones,
hidden red crown.

May 11: Wave

After the rain stopped late this morning, dozens of migrating birds moved through the trees in our back yard. I stood on the violet-dappled lawn and watched them for almost two hours as they flitted and fed in the new leaves above the river. Yellow-rumped Warblers were the most numerous and least shy, often flying very near me and posing very visibly. The chorus of the songs of all those birds rose to a cacophony at the peak of the wave. I let the sound wash over me as I followed each movement in the trees with my binoculars.

Heard again after a year--
Magnolia Warbler's sweet song
rises from the chorus.

April 20: Birds in the rain

Only one other person besides me came out in the rain to join my friend Derek on his weekly Bird Walk this morning. But our all-weather persistence was well rewarded. As we walked along the wooded edges of Florida Lake in Freeport in intermittent rain, sparrows sang, a swarm of Tree Swallows flew after midges on the water's surface, peepers trilled, two Ospreys periodically swept over the water looking for fish, and hundreds of Yellow-rumped and Palm Warblers chipped and sang around us. We stood in one place for a long time, letting the music of the place wash over us, simply appreciating the moment.

They always return,
but still, a wave of spring warblers
brings such joy.

May 26: Monhegan again!

I can't get out here enough! Fortunately this weekend my husband was able to join me on my favorite island. We left in pea soup fog, and now I'm enjoying a cocktail in full sun on the deck of the Monhegan House while a flock of siskins chirps overhead, the foghorn whistle sounds, somewhere far off a bell buoy clangs, and gulls cry down at the harbor's edge. The sun is slowly lowering itself over the curved green back of Manana, the island across the harbor, as I'm slowly settling into the island rhythm for the weekend.

Besides the visual attractions of the island and the brightly colored migrants that pass through it, and the constant sounds of the waves and singing birds, my high moment today had to do with the sense of smell. While listening and looking for a mourning warbler, a skulking, boreal bird with a song often used, for some reason, in TV ads, I found myself suddenly engulfed in the perfume of a lilac grove. The ancient, twisted lilacs are laden with redolent purple blossoms right now, with bright warblers moving among them. For an instant, part of me was on the island I love, on a quest for a sought-after bird. And part of me was back at my grandmother's house, a child again, breathing in that heady fragrance as if it were oxygen. They do say smell is the sense most closely linked to memory.

As a child, too, I
gloried in lilacs, and birds,
at the ocean's edge.

April 28: First warblers

A few warblers have been around for a little while--yellow-rumped, pine, palm, the odd sighting of other species here and there, and in southern Maine, the discovery of a hooded warbler, an unusual visitor that doesn't often wander this far north. Very early this morning, as I was jogging up the street to catch a ride to an all-day land conservation conference--as usual, I was a little late--I made myself even more late when I stopped to listen to my first black-and-white warbler of the year. That sweet, high-pitched "squeaky wheel" song was clearly audible over the roar of the still-high river.

The next few weeks should herald the arrival of many more warblers. I think I'm going to start walking to work--a real possibility now that I don't have to lug a laptop to and fro anymore. This time of year, each day's returning birds is new cause for excitement, so I'm betting that I'm going to be strolling in even later than ever, having paused along the way for each chip and trill.

I'm late yet again,
steps slowed by a "squeaky wheel"--
welcome back, warbler!

Female black-and-white warbler.
Photo courtesy of Wolfgang Wander via Wikimedia Commons.

September 27: Yellow-throated Warbler

A couple of days ago a birder I know reported a yellow-throated warbler down by the Ice Pond here on Monhegan. I didn't see it then, but today we happened to be in the right place at the right time. The grey drizzle did not dim the glow of this bright little bird, although in the Maine chill this Southern species must have been wishing it was someplace else. A black and grey streaked warbler with a vivd yellow throat, this species shows up every few years here on the island. The only one I've seen outside of Florida was here, five years ago, in a lilac bush about five feet from my face. A memorable birding moment. Today's sighting was equally memorable, with the striking bird right out in the open on a branch of a plum bush, surrounded by fat purple beach plums.

Stray Southern warbler
in rain, on island plum bush.
We all long for sun.

May 10: Appetizer

Thanks to being completely slammed by pollen allergies this spring, I've had a slow start with my birding season. As we head into the peak of spring migration and birders are seeing more than a dozen warblers an outing, my high point to date has been the ten minutes before work this morning. During a brief tour of my back yard, I enjoyed a little bird sampler of things to come: a great blue heron sailed through and landed in the river, five different warblers sang amid the leaves, a male downy woodpecker flew into a tree right next to me, and goldfinches mewed from the birch tree in the driveway.

Given that the air was a raw 40 degrees and I was running late to work, I wasn't intending to devote any time to birding this morning. But as I was getting ready to leave, I could hear the song of a redstart out back. I had to heed the call. So I grabbed my binocs just to get a quick look at this striking black and red little bird. Before I could successfully locate him, a parula sang, then a black-throated green warbler and a black-and-white warbler. I thought I had him in my neighbor's oak tree, but that bird turned out to be a Nashville warbler. Finally I picked him out in a nearby arborvitae. I'm sure there were other warblers back there, too, but alas, duty called.

Happy to have experienced that old thrill of a birding a warbler wave, small as it was, I left for work regretful that I didn't have more time to bird. As I walked into the office, I heard my first great-crested flycatcher of the season calling down by the river. This good start to my work day whetted my appetite for what I hope will become a gourmet banquet of birds in the month ahead.

Redstart sang to me
of sunny, bird-filled mornings,
fanned his pretty tail.

Photo courtesy of Wikipedia Commons

May 4: A Few Good Warblers

This past week as waves of songbirds have been pouring into the state, I've been stuck at my desk working and periodically reading reports on the Maine birding maillist of what everyone else has been seeing. A lot of warblers have been showing up, many of them on the early side, so it's been a little frustrating to have to work so hard at this exciting time of year. These colorful little gems of the bird world are among my favorite birds to seek out during spring and fall migrations. In the spring, there's the thrill of their return after many months absence, as well as the joy of seeing them in fresh, bright plumage (they favor yellows and greens) and hearing their varied songs. In the fall, they pass through silently and with muted plumage, presenting an interesting challenge to birders--which is why there's a whole section in the Peterson Field Guide to the Birds called "Confusing Fall Warblers."

Pine warblers are among the first to arrive, and I've been hearing them in the tall pines around my parents' house since early April. In late April I added yellow-rumped warbler. And this week a black-and-white warbler has been singing its "squeaky wheel" song outside my office. But people have been reporting everything from Louisiana waterthrush to blue-winged warbler to Blackburnian warbler this past week, and I was hungry to see more. Warblers are like candy for birders, and each spring outing is measured by how many warbler species were seen. In Maine it's possible to break 20 species on a peak mid-May day with a good fallout of these pretty little birds.

Today I finally had some small satisfaction. On a work outing to snap some photographs in Hope, I heard warblers singing as soon as I got out of my car: black-and-white warbler, then an ovenbird's "teacher, teacher, TEACHER!" from deep within the trees, and off in the distance, a black-throated green warbler's "zee zee zoo zee." As I walked along the trail, I flushed a yellowthroat, catching a quick glimpse of its black mask. Before I headed back to the car, I had even added bluebird and hermit thrush. I wasn't out for long, but that hour was a rewarding one.

Familiar singing
and bright new feathers--warblers
back from the tropics.