LONGVIEW, TEXAS — Fjord (who now has binoculars) and Courtney wanted to squeeze in some birding while I was on campus, so we had agreed to meet at 7 a.m. Unfortunately for the plan, I had to keep my alarm in a place I could reach without getting out of bed. And so, I woke suddenly, a few moments after 7. This little problem didn’t seem to do much harm, but I couldn’t help remembering that it had happened before. With only about an hour to spend, the north end of campus was as far as we could go. As we headed that direction, a Mourning Dove’s feathers whistled sharply.

A musical trill from the pines by the Assembly Building sounded like a Pine Warbler to me. The last few notes were lower than the first, and I told Fjord and Courtney I’d never heard a Chipping Sparrow sing like that. But, I have heard rather musical-sounding Chipping Sparrows before and am always hesitant to attempt a definite identification. The bird kept moving by the sound of things, and we never even got a glimpse.

Cardinals sang, and robins. The cardinal-song almost made me forget it was January, though the birds seemed to sing with just a fraction of the enthusiasm that will pour from them in the months ahead.

Common Grackles flew north in noisy bands, and I struggled to explain how I knew they were Common Grackles instead of something else entirely. I realized that most of my descriptions were relative, appealing to knowledge that my younger friends do not yet have. Their tails are long. Well, longer than what? Their calls are unique. How? They just are. They are Common Grackles.

I heard a distant call and asked for an identification. “Blue Jay?” said Fjord. And I was happy.

A sapsucker and a creeper scooted along the branches of adjacent trees. A bit of patience and maneuvering rewarded us with good looks at both, though the creeper stayed up higher than they sometimes do. A little farther on, a red-belly rested at the tip of a tall tree, but the light of the rising sun illuminated the creature’s zebra-striped back and gleaming red crown. Courtney correctly identified a small flock of Chipping Sparrows, but a Blue-headed Vireo moved too quickly for either her or Fjord to appreciate.

Henbit had started to bloom, or perhaps it never stops. We rounded the southern end of the pond, passing a Red-winged Blackbird. His brilliant shoulders were not visible, so I tried to point out his shape and the unique music of his song. I’d heard talk of a Great Blue Heron that had been hanging out in the pond of late, but it wasn’t there just then. Soft calls and a musical trill came from the oaks on the west bank.

As we got closer, we could see several small birds flitting quickly among the branches, and I caught the bright flash of a male Pine Warbler. Before long, my companions saw them too, and then several of the birds flew down into the grass to feed, providing us even better looks. Meanwhile, a flicker perched atop a tall wooden post.

We split up as we passed the dining hall, Fjord going in to breakfast. Just after we’d parted, I saw a few juncos. And of course, Cedar Waxwings swarmed in the Bradford pears on the berm. I called out to Courtney, who turned. “I’ve never seen Cedar Waxwings!” She hurried back to look, and I went on my way.

It was such a simple morning, but I kept hoping it would open Fjord’s and Courtney’s eyes. The birds are there, singing, feeding, shining in the sun, whether someone like me is around or not. I hope they will go and find them themselves.

The life birds called for celebration, Courtney decided, and she generously offered me her Brewer’s Blackbirds (from a recent CBC), so I could participate as well. We went to IHOP late at night, and we even invited a few non-birders too.

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