Warblers

Warblers drive me crazy.

As a general rule, warblers arrive a week or so after all the trees have leafed out.  They hide in the trees and move constantly.  I sit with binoculars and camera trying to figure out what kind of bird is sneaking around, but I never get a good look.  Most expert birders locate them by call and don't bother looking for them.  Me, I can never keep track of the calls.  Then they migrate farther north.

Gary sometimes suggests the Audubon solution.  John James Audubon, in order to paint his epic Birds of America, asked his assistants to shoot the birds so he could get a good look at them.

The one time I could really get a good look at warblers was at Matinicus Rock, a lighthouse 22 miles off the coast of Maine, where my cousin and I were babysitting puffins and other assorted sea birds the Memorial Day week. There were no trees or shrubs at Matinicus, just rocky cliffs.  When the warblers stopped on their long migration north, they sat exhausted on the rocks and we were able to figure out every bird from Magnolia warblers to redstarts.

It's almost like that in my back yard this week. The ways of nature are a bit messed up with the unseasonably cold weather.  The trees have yet to sprout leaves but the warblers are here at their usual time. They can fly, but they can't hide for long.   First thing this morning, I saw a Blackburnian warbler and that soon was followed by the Cape May warbler.

They both are cuties, but don't expect photos because they are warblers and that means constant movement.  All my camera can capture is a blur.

To make this more difficult, the birds are in mating mode, chasing each other around.  They are a randy bunch.  Then there's the Baltimore oriole.  The warblers try to sip at the jelly feeder where I might get a good look, but the oriole is having none of that.  He is doing is best to chase them off.

There are more warblers though not all were as easy to identify.  Gary followed one around and around the yard with his binoculars and said it was either a Nashville or a Tennessee warbler.   He finally decided to call it a Grand Ol' Opry warbler and that is what it is until it finally sits still long enough for a proper ID.

I love them all, every one of the species that come to visit us at Mathom House....except at 4:00 a.m.