Ciblek Mania

I am pleased to report that on my recent birding adventure to the north country, I encountered The First Robin of Spring! Clearly these early returnees to the wintry parts of the species' range are made of different stuff than your normal, everyday robins.

I've written here before about TFROS. I wonder if they subsist on iceworms during spells of inclement weather.

I shot this image of a male western bluebird at the Red Rock State Park near Sedona, Arizona. He seemed to know where the good habitat was. And speaking of habitat...

After a couple of weeks of festival travel, speaking, performing, and guiding, I'm looking forward to a spell at home and this birdy time of year. For the first time in at least a decade I'll be home for a large chunk of spring migration, and I'm looking forward to it. If this morning was any indication, we're in for a late rush of migrants. I had 55 species on the farm in just under three hours, and that was all within hearing distance from the house.

Now I'm in town at work at Bird Watcher's Digest and there is a different set of birds here, so by the end of the day (despite work and other "distractions") I should easily pass 70 species.

I think I feel a big day coming on...

Wishing you a beautiful and birdy spring.

Dear Readers:

My sincere apologies for the sparse and irregular posts of late. After my first Guyana post last Monday I had the very best of intentions last week about sharing some more from that trip but then life revved up into krazy-train mode. I blinked and it's another Monday!

I will try to do better this week. I hope you'll stick with me (I do appreciate your patience).

In other news the blue-gray gnatcatchers got in this morning on the farm. I heard my first brown thrasher of the spring on Sunday, and the eastern meadowlarks were battling it out over the meadow this morning. We watched them from the tower where we'd run hoping to identify three mystery ducks that flew over the hills to the west of us. No joy on the ducks, but the woods showed us its flimsy spring garments—the tree buds and blossoms exhibiting the most wishful thinking possible. We'll see if leaping into spring so soon is warranted or even advisable. I fear winter may yet have a face slap or two in its arsenal.

It's been spring, officially, for two weeks, but it's not really spring for us bird watchers until the good spring migrants start showing up. Don't get me wrong. I LOVE the hardy early arrivers: pine warblers, tree swallows, chipping sparrows, brown thrashers. But it seems so much more wonderful when the wood thrushes, chestnut-sided warblers, great crested flycatchers, and Baltimore orioles show up.

So I guess I am trying my level best to hurry the seasons along. Despite the advice of all the New Age gurus that we must "live in the moment and not "wish our lives away." When it comes to anticipating the special birds of spring, I'm totally ready to forget today if tomorrow brings a dawn chorus of new arrivals.

Some other spring signs:

The brown thrasher returned to our ridge-top farm on Sunday morning. Zick heard him first and yelled it to me from the other end of the house. I stuck my head out the window and heard his jumbly sing-song coming from the spring trail.

This is a photo of the same dude (I suspect) from a few years ago. He was singing from the same tree yesterday and I would have gone after him with the camera for some fresh images, but I was simply not able. I've been down with some weird flu-like affliction since Friday night and have not been feeling anywhere close to myself.

Nice to know spring goes on, rolling around on Nature's giant wheel, even when we, ourselves, feel more like roadkill.

I am thankful for brown thrashers. Knowing that Mr. Brown is back in town has me feeling better—I'd say he's done more tom improve my health than a full dose of Biaxin—at least so far.