WISE CO., TEXAS — A noisy flock of yellow-rumps played flycatcher in the trees along the creek. A Yellow-bellied Sapsucker showed off his glowing red spots in the late morning sun. Harris’s Sparrows and cardinals had dispersed from the field where they fed when I first arrived, and robins’ thin flight calls occasionally reached my ears.

A bit farther on, a Greater Yellowlegs leapt from the shallow pond, wailing in protest as a red-tail circled overhead. The wader finally settled down, but the Gadwall and roadrunner had disappeared during the commotion. The mama wigeon stayed.

Streams were more heavily wooded of course, but the dry uplands were savanna-like. Live oaks, deciduous oaks, and a few junipers (with blue berry-cones) grew in the grasslands, sometimes thick, sometimes sparse. Most of the land seemed to be in use by ranchers or energy companies, which appeared to affect the vegetation types and struck me as odd for a national grassland.

The morning had been quiet, though I’d heard Western Meadowlarks singing at an early stop, where I’d also seen a Red-bellied Woodpecker. I still don’t know exactly where the transition to golden-fronted occurs, but apparently it’s west of here.

There were cardinals and chickadees, both of the vultures, and a Red-shouldered Hawk, who’d sat still to let me admire its white-spotted back and rufous-barred breast. But sparrows had won the morning:

1. Field Sparrows
2. Vesper Sparrows
3. Savannah Sparrows
4. Fox Sparrow? (I couldn’t quite be sure.)
5. Song Sparrows
6. White-throated Sparrows
7. Harris’s Sparrows
8. White-crowned Sparrow (Just one. Odd, I thought.)
9. Dark-eyed Juncos

LAKE BRIDGEPORT, TEXAS — Coots. Ring-billed Gulls. Got to find something I couldn’t have seen in Dallas….

JACK CO., TEXAS — There’s a lot more mesquite out here, and the land has begun to heave up and down. I stopped and got out of the car as several little birds flushed. A Song Sparrow, a Field Sparrow, and a Bewick’s Wren sat atop a brushpile.

High-pitched calls drew my attention to a nearby mesquite. Titmouse. A very interesting titmouse: Its forehead was rusty, and its crest was plain gray. It was alone, and it didn’t stick around long. Then I saw a Fox Sparrow, lurking in the brush.

I stopped at a cemetery that did not have owls in its ancient cedars. Some of the people buried there were born before Texas fought with Mexico. I wonder when they came here, and why, and what it was like when they did.

A few crows perched in the mesquite. No ravens, woodpeckers, or pyrrhuloxias. I’m curious about all these birds, and I’d love more time to explore. I’ve long held the belief that it’s better to live in a place and become familiar with the land and its birds — this, instead of swooping into the hotspots chasing the specialties. But it looks like I’ll be something of a swooper, at least for the forseeable future. Not that I’m complaining.

I found a little party of three titmice on Mountain Home Road. They all looked like hybrids too, though one had a darker gray crest than the others. It still wasn’t black. A scold call was subtly different in timbre or pitch from the scolds of pure Tufted Titmice.

One bird was hammering open acorns, which it plucked from branch tips. I was impressed. Then we went our ways.

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