Stalking Birders and Bird Sightings

Minor confession time here: I was supposed to arrive at 7:30 this morning to hook up with the Audubon guide to take a tour. Only thing is, I kind of dawdled this morning and didn't leave the HOUSE until 7:30. And it took a little longer to get to the park than I planned for, so it was around 8:15 before I arrived. WELL, you would have thought they were giving away free fried chicken or something, because I had to park down the road from the Visitors Center (the meeting place) and walk across the street to get there.

The Ranger was extremely helpful.

Me: Do you have a birder's checklist?
Her: Yes (hands me a checklist)
Me: Do you know the best places in the park to view them?
Her: No

And see, a "No" leaves little room for a followup question. And this park is noted in BOOKS, WEBSITES AND BIRDING PUBLICATIONS as one of the Top 100 Birding sites in the country, particularly during the fall migration, so you'd think she'd be a little more prepared for that question, and be a bit more encouraging.

However, who should come to my rescue but one of those waspish white women I have mentioned before? She and her, oh I don't know, boyfriend-- husband-- brother-- had just walked into the Visitors Center seconds before and not only was she prepared to hand me HER birders checklist, she asked if I KNEW there was a birder's audubon field trip going on RIGHT THIS MINUTE?

I said no. When you are looking at a bird enthusiast, and you are an amateur, I had this suspicion that she'd turn on me, if only in her mind, if I said, "Yeah, I knew about it but I was more interested in 15 more minutes of sleep than getting here on time to follow a group of birders around. I mean hey, I like warblers, but I'm not going to see them good at only 4X magnification, you know what I mean?"

Oh no, I didn't say all that. I tilted my head and said, "Wow, really? I didn't know that. Do you know where they are?"

"Well, for the last 40 minutes, they were just out in the parking lot," offered her boyfriend/husband/brother. My mind mocked me. "Great, the last set of birders you wanted to hang with WOULDN'T hang out in the parking lot, and now, just as you assumed they don't linger, here's a group that DOES."

"Really?" is what I actually said.

"Oh yes," he said. "There are so many birds around right now that you can see quite a few warblers, thrushes and rails just down in the field next to the parking lot." They both nodded. It was clear they had seen their fill. They were now waiting for the bus to take them to the top of the mountain, while the others had opted for the more physically demanding task of walking the entire way.

Which is what I did. And I took the trail rather than walking up the paved road, believing that to be the better option. A few minutes after I arrived at the top, what should I see but a clump of people walking up from the road? By the way, you can spot birders from a distance, without binoculars. When you're in a park, they're the ones in street clothes rather than exercise clothes, in goofy hats, with binoculars and field guides.

You can't miss them. Look at this picture. The one in the red shirt has the harness I told you about, for the heavy binoculars.

Anyway, this shot was taken about 15 minutes before I joined them. Because, as the Audubon guide said at the top, "Well, you're welcome to take the trail back, but the best birding is from the paved road."

Grrrrrrr. Dude, if I had only heard that two hours earlier!

I was able to hang with them for a short time, but despite being a big girl with bad knees, I walked even faster than these people did. It's okay though, I spotted some cool stuff they missed. Oh yeah, they were too loud too.

I'll go back though. I'll tell you why. When I was on the trail coming up the mountain, I sat on a rock outcropping as people walked by and waited to see the birds. I'd heard them playing in that stretch of the woods and I knew if I sat long enough, I'd see a few. Well, I saw one at the crown of the trees, and another sitting in a stand of trees, but all from a great distance and not in great detail.

As I stood up finally to resume my walk, I looked up. Before my eyes, a bird flew up from the brush, like the crest of a wave. He shot up into the air and perched on a branch less than 50 feet from me. And he stayed. Like he was staring.

"Oh hi there, baby," I said in a whisper. He was a stranger. I have no idea what he was, but he was mine. He was there for me.

--Laura