Floodgates

Every single year, once late April rolls around, I get antsy. In my mind, spring migration is always running late. Sure the birds trickle in, but I always feel like those days of new spring arrivals dripping off of the trees are never going to come, or worse, that they came and went and I missed them. It’s all perception of course, even this far south the bulk of spring migration waits until the first few days of May before it really heats up. I just forget it every year in the anticipation. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t occasionally turn up one of those spring days that are really worth savoring.

So even though the name conjures up everything that’s pure evil in the world (or at least the Triangle of North Carolina), I hit Duke Forest on a Sunday morning. It’s usually a place I try to get to at least once in the spring as the undergrowth is still free from the ravaging of the local deer population (which is more that I can say for many other places in the area) which makes it a good place for some nesting warblers like Hooded and Kentucky.

So if this place is so great, why don’t I go there more often. Well, it’s also a popular locale for runners and dog-walkers who, despite having clear signage directed at them as to the required leashing of said canines, rarely feel as though the rules apply to them. So that’s frustrating and often not worth bothering with, except in spring, when the promise of neotrops fill one with a renewed and indefatigable vigor that yields not to chatty joggers nor leashless mutts alike.

Warblers, friends, embiggen* the hearts of even the smallest man.

But it wasn’t warblers that first caught my attention as I started the 4 mile loop. I was treated to a dawn chorus of Veerys and Swainson’s Thrushes in ster-e-o surround. At least four birds with a Wood Thrush thrown in for good measure. And made even cooler cause I hit play on Dark Side of the Moon right when I heard the Chipping Sparrow at the beginning of the trail. Dude, the Ovenbird comes in right at the beginning of Great Gig in the Sky. It’ll blow your mind…

It was about then that the warblers started showing up. American Redstart and Palm first, then Ovenbird and BT Blue and Black & White and I began thinking things were looking pretty good. I even turned up a late Yellow-rump. It’s funny how quickly they can start to rack up once you start getting all the common ones. By the time the pair of Worm-eating Warblers hopped out in response to my Screech Owl call I had started counting them up in earnest and making an effort to pull out some of the ones I might otherwise miss.

A BT Green sang from the top of an oak. I turned off the main trail down by New Hope Creek a sec to make certain I’d get Louisiana Waterthrush, stalled by the pine grove until I was certain not only Pine Warbler sang, but Yellow-throated too. Things were falling into place.

The Magnolia was a really nice surprise, as was the Chestnut-sided singing an alternate song that encouraged me to spend the time to get that one right. At the end of the day, when I counted everything up, I had 19 species. And the funny thing was that I’d missed some relatively easy ones too, like Prothonotary, Yellow, and Kentucky. So had I had just a tad more luck, I could have left even 20 in the rear view mirror (I’m not complaining, just saying).

The dirty dozen and a half (+ one)? Redstart, Parula, Ovenbird, Hooded, Black & White, Worm-eating, BT Green, BT Blue, Magnolia, Chestnut-sided, La Waterthrush, Prairie, Yellowthroat, Yellow-throated, Yellow-rumped, Blackpoll, Pine, Palm and Chat. Nothing unusual, but all the regulars plus a handful of boreal migrants. 19 warblers, easy as pie.

That wasn’t all. Acadian Flycatchers are back, along with both Tanagers, loads of Indigo Buntings and the aforementioned Thrushes.

A pretty solid day out, just like I knew would eventually happen. I just need to remember to be more patient, I guess.

Ah, who am I kidding? This’ll happen next year too…

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*Quiet, it’s a perfectly cromulent word.