Feels like Spring

Well, at least the birds do. The weather here in the bright sunny south has verged on summer for the last few days, finally breaking the 90 degree mark before April has even finished showering. The night before was one of those still, humid evenings that back in my midwest childhood I would have associated with the dog days. But here in Carolina, it’s the appetizer for the season served way too hot, and only spent tolerably on the patio with some sort of alcoholic beverage in a sweaty glass.

But I digress, if it seems as though summer is upon me quickly it’s only because the late spring has been spent busy preparing for Baby N8′s all too eminent arrival. The wife and I have been running ourselves ragged cleaning out the house, moving furniture around, hauling off junk we had accumulated and running errands to replace said junk with baby stuff. I’m sure many of you with progeny can sympathize. Needless to say, I’ve been somewhat delinquent in my bird spotting lately, and those guilty feelings have been amplified by reports on the state listserve and across the blogosphere of returning spring birds.

So Sunday morning I had plans to get out to at least get a taste of what I was missing before returning home to run more errands. But the birds, they wouldn’t even wait for me. I was awoken at 6 am, at the first glimmer of sunlight over the horizon, by an lustily singing Gray Catbird immediately outside our bedroom window. I’ve written before how this particular bird has never endeared itself to my wife, this time was no exception (she told me she had to put in her earplugs), but for me it was a wakeup call. If I only had a couple hours to bird, I was going to Mason Farm. The catbird was calling me. Those birds weren’t going to see themselves after all.

The first bird I heard, I mean the very first one, when I stepped out of the car was American Redstart. Oh yeah, it was on.

Though the foliage was nearly to midsummer thickness the birds were all spring. A female Summer Tanager flew over, a pair of Red-eyed Vireos chased each other so persistently at the trail fork that they were still going at it when I returned over an hour later, from the top of a poplar a black and white flash of Rose-breasted Grosbeak heading away. The songs of local nesters were in full voice, especially the White-eyed Vireos and Cardinals, but here and there the plaintive whistle of the last to leave White-throated Sparrows, the chuffing of a Chat off in a distant field, the squeaky wheel of a Black and White Warbler. There seemed to be birds everywhere, and I hesitated to put my binoculars to any one for fear of missing another.

So even though by walk was relatively short I still managed a solid 11 species of warblers, including a stunning Black-throated Blue (a bird I have a special relationship with) and a Northern Waterthrush. The Indigo Buntings returned while in the same field I watched a trio of Chats chased each other through the sumac groves. Both tanagers made an appearance including a beauty of a Scarlet and on the homestretch I watched from as little as three feet away as a pair of Parulas gathered lichen for a nest. A nice little experience with a bird I admit I often don’t make the effort to get a look at.

It was a good morning, made even more so by the fact that who knows how much more birding I’ll get in this spring.