LONGVIEW, TEXAS — Chimney Swifts and Purple Martins circled the pond and fields in good numbers today. I usually head down there after class, and today I took my camera.

Ladybugs on Coreopsis lanceolata.

A Scissor-tailed Flycatcher.

LONGVIEW, TEXAS — A shrike lives down by the pond and the athletic fields. We saw him on a power line, calling. A shrike is not a bad way to start the day, especially if it’s on campus.

It’s also not a bad way to start a birding career. Today was Courtney’s first day birding. We went this morning before class. Spence wanted to come, but he decided to study for history and statistics tests instead. Good for him. Anyway, Courtney is a mutual friend of ours who seemed interested in birds and responded enthusiastically to my invitation. It appears that LOL is continuing to grow.

We birded the south end of campus. The fulgent morning air heightened colors and sounds. Jays cried loudly; Mourning Doves fluttered and glided from tree to tree. Mockingbirds, cardinals, robins, Carolina Wrens, and an exuberant House Finch poured forth song. “It’s like a symphony,” Courtney said, as if she were hearing it — really hearing it — for the first time.

Chimney Swifts twittered through the skies, and goldfinches and Chipping Sparrows ornamented the very tops of the trees (which of course meant that virtually no field marks were visible on the sparrows). I heard a couple of yellow-rumps, but there were no neotropical migrants today.

We heard and then saw a Brown Thrasher. To my astonishment, it moved quickly from low brush up to the top of a stand of tall pines, singing all the while. We listened carefully to its song, which had shorter and heavier, darker phrases than mockingbirds’ songs do. I had never seen a thrasher go as high up in trees that one did, but apparently his song buoyed him up, up, and up.

Returning to the pond, we watched a kingbird and a singing Red-winged Blackbird, both sharp and classy characters. As we neared the end of the walk, I heard a Brown-headed Nuthatch. I finally saw it sitting almost directly above us on a little dead oak twig. After sitting still and calling for a while, it took off. And we went off to class.

ydhttmwfi: Hooked

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!

LONGVIEW, TEXAS –

Shroud and Bev named the House Finch Molly. Her clutch consists of four eggs.

LONGVIEW, TEXAS — This morning, I went to investigate my friend’s report that a bird was nesting outside his apartment. He said that the nest was in a hanging basket.

Now, most people plant flowers of some sort in their hanging baskets and flower beds. Not Shroud and Bev. They moved into their married student apartment and quickly filled every available patch of dirt with … plastic forks. White, poky, garish plastic forks.

In this seemingly inhospitable environment, a House Finch chose to build her nest.

She has two eggs.

I did some other walking around campus. Mockingbirds were singing everywhere, and a few yellow-rumps moved around the trees. Down by the pond, I saw a shrike fly by. It harassed a starling briefly, but it didn’t seem intent on killing just then. I also saw a Killdeer and a red-belly, and I heard a flicker. A couple of Barn Swallows skimmed the pond.

I found a beautiful clump of pink oxalis behind the pond.

New leaves against a cloudless sky.