EAST TEXAS — My phone rang at 7:20. It was Spence. I had overslept. Apparently, my alarm went off at 6:30 as planned, but my near-total lack of sleep had finally caught up with me, and I failed to hear it. My roommate, in a misguided act of kindness, got up, turned off the alarm, and went back to sleep. Chagrined, I clambered out of bed and made it downstairs in 10 minutes.

Lynn (in town for the weekend) and Spence were in the lobby getting acquainted. I offered some sleepy excuse for my lateness, and though I didn’t feel very awake, we started on our way.

Three vireos — white-eyed, yellow-throated, and red-eyed — sang along the creek on 254. Gnatcatchers, chickadees, and yellow-rumps moved through the trees in small groups, and Carolina Wrens and a Prothonotary Warbler sang from deeper in the woods. We saw the Yellow-throated Vireo fly across the road and land in the top of an oak. He sat there singing for several minutes, but his height and the glare from the rising sun made him difficult to see.

The pond was empty except for a couple of cormorants on the barrels. An accipiter flew over, and I muttered about wings and tails and crosses and plusses as it quickly disappeared. I don’t think I communicated much useful information to Spence and Lynn, and I concluded with a weak, “Well, it might have been a sharp-shin.” Several Killdeer flew in and landed on a muddy strip by the road. A mockingbird sang nonstop, sometimes making up his own phrases, sometimes mimicking a bluebird, sometimes mimicking a titmouse.

White-eyed Vireos were plentiful but elusive, driving Lynn to threats of violence: “black-eyed vireos,” she said. Finally, though, she was able to see one, and peace was restored.

As we worked our way back toward the car, Jason pulled up behind us. He greeted Lynn, and we introduced him to Spence. He told us that he’d been unable to find Painted Buntings or Prairie Warblers but mentioned a Cliff Swallow colony under a bridge on 782. After a brief chat, he headed east down the road, and we continued back to my car. Just beyond the bridge, we were finally able to get good looks at a Yellow-throated Vireo. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had good looks at one, even though I’d surveyed lots of them the summer before.

On 782, we watched six noisy Scissor-tailed Flycatchers fluttering around the fence and power lines. Their brilliant pink sides and extravagant black-and-white streamers dazzled us all, new and old. And we did find the swallow colony. Dozens of Barn and Cliff swallows swirled through the air, glistening deep blue and chattering impatiently.

Based on Jason’s report, we decided to skip the cemetery and head to the iron bridge. There, we got good looks at a singing Prothonotary Warbler and a Red-bellied Woodpecker, which, however beautiful, looked anything but red bellied. Spence and Lynn are fans of the straightforward names like Blue-gray Gnatcatcher and Red-winged Blackbird. They get a little cynical when I come off with names like Ruby-crowned Kinglet and, well, Red-bellied Woodpecker.

A Red-shouldered Hawk circled high above the swamp, wailing. A flock of coots moved about on the surface of the water, splashing occasionally or uttering strange little sounds.

The day was heating up, and passerines were quieting down. We heard a Yellow-throated Warbler singing in a pine, and Lynn wanted to know if we could find it. We tried hard, but all we got for our efforts were brief glimpses of movement. The pines are tall and dark; they are a mysterious world that resists our efforts to see and understand.

Buntings, orioles, tanagers, hummingbirds, and most warblers are still absent. I kept trying to reassure myself and my comrades that many more species are on the way. Jason and I always get impatient at this time of year because East Texas heats up so fast. It’s 80 degrees, and we haven’t even seen an oriole!

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