Common Birds XXVI - Gray Catbird
Monday, May 15
Warblers will lead you on and break your heart. Granted, the birds and their Maker have me spoiled.
For example, as soon as I step out of the back door, I hear a new warbler. I know that I don’t know the call off of the top of my head, but it takes Merlin to tell me it’s a black-throated green warbler. Now, I don’t like to be obviously birding in the parking lot, but it’s spring migration! I feel the unrelenting pull to see what I’ve never seen before, to know all! So I get out my monocular. This warbler, like almost all warblers, is leaf shaped, leaf colored, and standing in the leaves. So I look and look and look. Coworkers pass by, unsure of what to do with my social transgression. There is a well worn script for walking past an acquaintance in a parking lot. There is no script for when that same acquaintance is just standing there, staring at an ordinary looking tree. But it doesn’t matter, I see the warbler! A tiny movement and it gave away its position. My strangeness has not been for naught!
On the way to the stream, I see a catbird, slightly smaller than a robin, all gray with a darker gray cap, singing a nonsense song. This is a habit the catbird and I share, inherited from our fathers. Sing the gist of a normal song, and other than the gist swap out everything else. The catbird almost has a song right, but then just keeps going, doubling down on its blunders, veering into the absurd. A beautiful performance!
At the stream, the mother and father Canada geese are back, their brood of tiny, fluffy dinos tagging along, feeding on the greenery in the shallow water. At last! I’ve been waiting to see these adorable goslings ever since the mother goose left the nest. I have seen her be unphased by a hawk, weather storms, and hiss down kayakers. The only thing that could compel her to leave is the wandering of those tiny webbed feet. Cheers! My the goslings fill out their frames, the air be filled with oriole songs, and the mouths of robins be filled with worms!
The trail is bursting with life and sound. Immediately, I hear a Wilson’s warbler and a northern parula. So I wait and stare across the pond to the trees where I hear them sing. Blue jays, red-winged blackbirds, and grosbeaks sweep past. Catbirds and robins hop on the shore. A nuthatch climbs past my shoulder. Two orioles get into a noisy and stunningly beautiful fight. Minutes turn and turn, and I catch no movement in the trees. After ten minutes, the warblers defeat me. I still have to work, and they sing on and on. But I will be back, and hopefully they will be closer. Then, I notice a common yellowthroat by my feet. Like I said, spoiled rotten and loving for every minute!
