EAST TEXAS — The LeTourneau Ornithological League has a new member! That takes us up to, um, four. Spence is a freshman who will succeed me as managing editor of The YellowJacket next year. I was surprised and delighted to find out he was interested in going birding. I had thought LOL would cease to exist (at least at LETU) upon my graduation. That’s still possible, but at least there’s hope now.

Anyway, I was up by five and picked Spence up about 10 till six. It was light, and birds were singing, but the sky was thick with early-morning clouds. As we drove east, I tried to go over some important points with Spence. I was surprised how remote my own early days of birding seemed, but I do still remember early frustrations, challenges, and victories.

We made good time to the iron bridge road in southwest Harrison County. We slipped through the gate and started down the familiar (to me) red mud road. Many species were singing, though none seemed very interested in being seen. As I identified song after song, I worried that I was completely overwhelming Spence with strange names and constant shifts in attention.

Spence isn’t used to binoculars yet, and he had a hard time following the rapidly moving small birds as they bounced from limb to limb or skulked deep in the brush. I had forgotten how much my ears supplement my birding experience, and I probably would not have noticed the uncooperative behavior had I not been trying to get Spence good looks at the birds.

With patience, we made progress. Spence found a singing Carolina Wren himself. A Song Sparrow came out and hopped along the edge of the road. Spence was able to get binocs on a kinglet and a nice male yellow-rump eventually. The yellow-rumps were in all sorts of plumage — from nearly full breeding colors to drab winter brown. Some were blotchy in-betweens. All of the white-throats were messy too. Their head pattern was barely recognizable.

Cardinals, Ruby-crowned Kinglets, and White-eyed Vireos were singing all along the road. Thrashers proved fairly numerous. The thrashers and vireos were characteristically hard to see, but it seemed even more frustrating today. I saw a couple of Orange-crowned Warblers. Meanwhile, a few cormorants flew overhead.

We made our way to the bridge and discovered a small flock of white pelicans on the water. They took flight our approach but settled back down a little farther out. They are huge and commanding birds. We watched them drop their feet and coast to a stop on the surface of the water. We briefly turned our attention to a Great Egret and a couple of Barn Swallows. Then, the pelicans moved out from behind a clump of bushes, and I saw that they had found a school of fish. They moved together in a line, driving the school ahead of them, sticking their heads down underwater and snapping up the fish. Their teamwork resulted in what appeared to be a good breakfast.

I saw a pair of Wood Ducks and a pair of Blue-winged Teal flying over the water, but not much else was visible. We moved on and found more yellow-rumps and White-throated Sparrows. I heard a Prothonotary Warbler singing, but Spence saw him before I did. A pair of Cedar Waxwings low in the shrubs afforded us excellent looks. They are chic, classy looking birds, though they behave like college students. Singing Yellow-throated and Pine warblers allowed me brief glimpses, but Spence didn’t get to see them. I assured him he would eventually.

We turned around at the first gas unit past the bridge. Gnatcatchers, apparently late risers, were vocal and active as we walked back, and a couple of Black Vultures flopped overhead. A noisy Eastern Kingbird swooped out over the water, snagged a dragonfly, and gobbled it down after returning to a utility wire. One White-eyed Vireo finally cooperated enough to give Spence a brief look. Titmice and Hairy Woodpeckers called and showed themselves only briefly.

Migration is underway, but it’s still early. The buntings, orioles, hummingbirds, and many other warblers have yet to arrive. I told Spence all about them and assured him they would come.

We got back almost in time for Spence’s 9:20 Bible class. He said he had fun, and I think he’ll come with me again. I believe birders are born, not converted, and they must wait to be discovered. I’m hoping Spence has been discovered. His life may never be the same.

LONGVIEW, TEXAS — My “Birds of New Guinea” arrived today. I looked at it instead of studying like crazy for my modern poetry exam. (I did eventually study, and I think I did fine.) The color plates of hundreds and hundreds of species are breathtaking and enthralling. Birds of paradise, fruit-doves, lorikeets, fairy-wrens, cassowaries, bat hawks — wow!

I’m at a complete loss. I don’t know how to absorb so much information. I’ve worked on North American birds for years, and I’ve gotten them down pretty well. I know how they fit together, and how they are different. I can arrange them in an logical and orderly fashion in my mind. I know what’s a sparrow, what’s a vireo, what’s a buteo. But now I’m left to thumb through pages helplessly as my mind tries unsuccessfully to process “coucal,” “cuckoo-dove,” and “melidectes.” This is one exam I can’t cram for. It’ll take work, and it will be frustrating sometimes. It takes time to learn so many new families, genera, and species. I’m also unsure how I’ll be able to balance my work and my desire to bird. I’ll probably have to ignore birds sometimes, or at least be content with brief and unsatisfactory looks. But it’s going to be incredible all the same! I’m so excited.

Oh, on the way to class or somewhere, I saw my FOS Chimney Swifts. I heard their twittering and looked up to see their stiff fluttering flight. I’m glad they’re back.

EAST TEXAS — I got nice looks at gnatcatchers today. It was a pair low in the bushes; they flitted back and forth and up and down. The male looked ferocious with his black unibrow. Kingbirds are back too.

I met Jason out on CR 254. I needed to pick up an extra pair of binoculars from him, and he also showed me pictures from his recent trip to the Valley … Elegant Trogon, Crimson-collared Grosbeak, ani, jays, etc. Argh.

It was cool and overcast — in the mid 50s, actually, with a steady breeze. Yes, that’s 25 degrees colder than it was yesterday. The joke goes that if you don’t like the weather here, just wait a couple hours. It’ll change.

We birded the area. It was fairly quiet, though we discovered some activity up the road at a Baptist church. Two Hermit Thrushes hopped around on the road among a smattering of juncos. We got to see a Brown-headed Nuthatch working the tops of catkin-draped oaks. It gave its rubber ducky call occasionally. I really like those little birds.

An Osprey hovered over a pond on 782. It swooped over the water occasionally but never caught anything. Barn Swallows and one rough-winged swallow zipped over the field.

When the Osprey moved on, we turned our attention to the numerous sparrows moving around the field and hedgerow. Most were Savannahs, but one bird’s white eye ring and auricular frame caught my attention: Vesper Sparrow. I had completely forgotten even to look for them. The white outer tail feathers flashed in flight.

A yellowlegs flew over the pond calling loudly. I discovered I’d forgotten which call is long and loud and which is short and soft. A quick consultation with my Sibley solved the problem. Of course: greater is long and loud. Each spring, I find myself having to relearn songs and calls. But each spring, I learn them faster and find that there’re fewer I’ve actually forgotten. Maybe I’m actually making progress!

At lunch, a mockingbird chased a robin into a window of the cafeteria. Several people gathered to look at the stunned cock. He looked all right, just dazed. It was kind of nice to have engineers and computer geeks looking at a bird for once, but the circumstances were unfortunate.

NORTHEAST TEXAS — There’s no school today. Even though I was up editing until almost 3 a.m., I got up at 9 because I won’t sleep in. I had thought I might get some work done (like my already-late editorial), but I was inspired by the beauty of the day and in half an hour was on my way to the Sabine mining land near Hallsville.

East Texas is lush and vibrant in the spring. Everything is green and growing fast. Most trees are leafing out already; some have made significant progress. My car was coated thickly with pine pollen. The roadsides sparkled with coreopsis, crimson clover, vetch, spring beauties, and other gem-like blooms. Even though I make fun of Texas, I think I’m going to miss it very much.

I pulled off the road at one point and was rewarded with pretty good looks at a House Wren, who was hopping around in a fencerow and scolding occasionally.

When I arrived at the church at the end of Hut Horton Road, I heard several birds singing and calling at once. I tallied cardinals, mockingbirds, Carolina Wrens, Field Sparrows, Barn Swallows, Ruby-crowned Kinglets, a White-eyed Vireo, yellow-rumps, juncos, and gnatcatchers in the space of a few minutes. After staring up into the pines for awhile, I finally got a brief look at the bright yellow male Pine Warbler. Kinglets bounced around all the while, and I never could see the gnatcatchers.

Barn Swallows and both vultures kept the skies alive. I watched two harriers harass a vulture. They were both flying quite high, which is always a surprising sight. They would tuck in their wings and execute spectacular dives. A male scissor-tail flew by, causing me to exhale sharply. His tail stretched far behind him, and his underwings flashed pink in the sunlight.

Walking around the cemetery yielded a handful of red-wings, phoebes, doves, and Song Sparrows and nice looks at a Field Sparrow and a White-eyed Vireo. Spring is like a reunion; I’m so excited to see all the newly returned summer birds again. It felt like 80 degrees, and sometimes I just had to stop walking and rejoice in the beauty of the sun and sky and breeze.

As I walked along Hut Horton Road, I began hearing the dry, jittery little songs of Sedge Wrens. The sound came from far afield, and I had very little hope of seeing the birds. I waited around, however, and before long, some slight movements much closer to me caught my eye. On the second or third try, I got my glasses on a tiny wren half hidden in the grasses. I saw its stubby bill and traces of its intricately patterned body, and I saw its throat vibrate as it sang. Then it was gone. A Sedge Wren! Always a pleasure, little friends. I don’t think I’d seen one for almost a year.

On the drive out, I saw and heard meadowlarks, and I saw a very light young red-tail. His head was streaked with white.

I wandered down Quail Lane on the way back and then on down into Talley Bottom — or at least to the gate. There, the forest is swampy. Palmettos grow, and pools of dark water harbor fish and snakes and frogs. I heard a parula on the way in, and when I got out of the car, I heard a Black-and-white Warbler. I could not locate it, but I did see a Yellow-throated Warbler skulking in a pine tree. Then, the bird glided down to the dirt road (not flew, glided) and hopped around there for several seconds. I was very surprised, but I relished the opportunity to observe a bird that’s normally rather difficult to see. Its bold pattern and almost-luminescent throat are magnificent.

Several other yellow-throats sang their sweet, descending songs from the treetops. I heard more gnatcatchers, but I never did see one, which was a bit surprising given their general ubiquity. A flock of goldfinches was noisy overhead, and a Red-shouldered Hawk circled low over the trees, wailing occasionally. Some Black Vultures soared high, high above like little specks; others still flopped about among the trees like black traces of a fading nightmare.

Various creatures plopped and splashed in the water, and a bright green anole caught my eye on a tree trunk. As I watched him, he inched away, spreading his bright pink throat patch as he disappeared around the trunk.

I heard some towhees calling in the brush, but they never showed themselves. As I headed back to my car, a white van passed me at an extraordinary rate of speed. I was glad I’d locked my car, and I hoped the van’s occupants were good, law-abiding citizens. One never knows.

I saw mockingbirds and bluebirds on my slow drive back, but grosbeaks, tanagers, kingbirds, and buntings are apparently not back yet. They can’t be far away now.