EAST TEXAS — The first thing we heard was the Dickcissels — it sounded like hundreds of them. I drove slowly along Hut Horton Road and stopped occasionally so we could study one that was perched on a nearby stalk or segment of fence. Their noise was constant, and occasionally a meadowlark’s clear soprano soared above the chattering. Dih-dih-dih-sih-sih-sih-s’l. Dih-sih-s’l!

For the last time, I had met Spence and Courtney in the Thomas lobby. Michaela had decided to come too. She’d said she didn’t think this was her “cup of bird,” but maybe she figured it was her last chance; I don’t know.

I stopped abruptly. I heard a Painted Bunting. He was on the right side of the road, at the top of a small tree, fully illuminated by the rising sun. And there was another a little farther on. He was even closer. Every detail gleamed brightly, even his red orbital ring. His colors almost shouted hallelujah.

We parked at the church and got out to walk. A loose flock of kingbirds flew purposefully overhead. I’d never seen so many together before, and I told my companions that they were witnessing migration. Two male Rose-breasted Grosbeaks flew over the church and landed in the very top of a tree. I heard another grosbeak squeaking sharply in the dense hedgerow.

At the far end of the cemetery, we saw a third Painted Bunting singing from high in a pine, and when we returned to the car, we saw a fourth on the power line. Four Painted Buntings makes a very good morning, and my young friends appeared pleased.

We saw Savannah Sparrows, Blue Grosbeaks, and kingbirds along the road, but I did not hear any Grasshopper Sparrows or see any raptors. Eventually, I pulled off Hut Horton and back onto 782 for the last time.

Our walk along the iron bridge road was beautiful. The chat put on his usual performance in his tree. Summer Tanagers were plentiful and easy to see. “I never knew there were so many colorful birds,” Spence said.

A pair of White-crowned Sparrows fed along the edges of the road, and their uniforms were crisp and sharp in black, white, and gray. In the water a Great Egret was surrounded by three smaller and more active snowies. We encountered a whole treeful of kingbirds, and I wondered why there were so many today.

We saw an Anhinga soaring, and Spence said it looked like a paper airplane. Strange, I thought, but … yes. Sleek, flat, pointed, broad, effortless….

I saw a Yellow-throated Warbler briefly as it moved among pine needles. Pine warblers sang. An indigo bunting sang. And it was time for goodbye. I’d birded that road for almost four years. Jason and I got spoonbills and Wood Storks there in September my freshman year. It was like a wonderland then. I guess it still is, in a different sort of way. I don’t know how or when it happened, but a little bit of East Texas crept into my blood. But now it’s time to go away.

I hope Spence and Courtney will keep birding after I’m gone. Maybe Michaela will join them. They cannot yet imagine the joy and wonder that lies ahead if they will keep birding. Just keep birding.

ydhttmwfi: The last time

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