GREENE CO., MO. — Today I joined the GOAS field trip in Christian County, Missouri.

It’s been a cool, extraordinarily wet spring in the Ozarks, and tree buds are just now starting to open up. Nevertheless, the southern breeding warblers are mostly in place; I personally had eight warbler species including Ovenbird, redstart, parula, yellow-throated, Kentucky, and Pine Warbler during the morning. Boreal breeders like Chestnut-sided Warbler haven’t quite started coming through yet.

Greg Swick tries to point out a Hermit Thrush for a crowd of eager observers. (Greg has posted his own account of the day: Red Bridge Round Up.) It was fun to see my old friends again. They call me a world traveler (which, I suppose, is true) and like to joke that they taught me everything I know (which is probably truer than they realize).

Lovely spring wildflowers bloomed among the rocks and trees. This is rue anemone.

And this is Trillium sessile (which I think sounds nicer than “toadshade”). Sessile means without a stalk, and as you can see, both the flower and the leaflets lack appreciable stalks and are nestled together. More wildflower photos are available in today’s gallery: Ozarks wildflowers.

Next stop, Texas!

GREENE CO., MO — A constant trickle of chickadees, titmice, and doves at the tray feeder sparked comments during Christmas dinner this afternoon. Even my mother’s 94-year-old uncle, who has lost most of his sight to macular degeneration, saw and remarked on the quickly moving birds.

It’s not a white Christmas this year; the weather is clear and mild. It was colder and windier on Sunday afternoon, when Charley Burwick and I spent some time birding Greene County. We didn’t find our friend Greg Swick’s Northern Shrike near Fellows Lake, but we did oo and ah over Short-eared Owls hunting late in the afternoon. Watching short-ears is always a highlight of the winter for me, and I hadn’t seen them yet this season.

As evening fell, we spotted a Great Horned Owl silhouetted against the gold and orange sunset. Taping for screech owls was unsuccessful that night, but I did hear two Great Horned Owls, and a pack of coyotes sent up a wild, cackling, collective howl. The full moon was huge and white, almost too bright to look at directly. Mars shone brightly beneath the moon, holding its own against our satellite’s brilliance. I had forgotten how cold 30 degrees can be.

Some of you may remember that I attended a presentation in March about the Foja Mountains expedition in New Guinea. A team returned to the mountains in June of this year, and a report of their trip was recently released (here’s one news story: Two New Mammal Species Discovered In Indonesia’s Wilderness). The BBC has a photo gallery, including three stunning bird photos. I also found this promotional/fundraising video narrated by Dr. Bruce Beehler: The Foja Expedition.

More unfamiliar birds in little-known corners of the world flutter on my horizon. What was under the tree for me this year? Field guides to Southeast Asia, Costa Rica, and Peru — all in anticipation of travel assignments in 2008.

Speaking of field guides, here’s a sneak peak at a project I’ve started working on: World Bird Field Guides.

Finally, let’s not forget the many ways birds help us celebrate Christmas: The Tree, The Crèche, The Stamps, The Cards, and The Carols.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

GREENE CO., MO. — I can hear the katydids calling tonight. It’s a sound I always associate with Ozark summers.

On this whirlwind visit, I’ve had a few moments for birding. On Saturday morning, Charley, Lisa, and I took a tour of three known raptor nests around Springfield.

We arrived first at an old-fashioned, park-like estate on the western side of town. We’d barely pulled in the driveway before a large, dark accipiter zipped low across the yard, sending a rush of adrenaline through all of our systems. The recently fledged Cooper’s Hawks were active and noisy in the trees, though we never did see the parents. I had a good look at one bird as it paused on a limb, and I noted the fine brown streaks on its breast — almost as if they were done with a pencil. This is a characteristic plumage feature of the species.

Next was an abandoned series of lots where Mississippi Kites had nested. The young bird left the nest just days before I got back, but we did see two or three kites circling in the sky overhead. At least one was molting its flight feathers. Mississippi Kites have bred at a few locations in southwest Missouri over the last few years, but they are still scarce.

Our third stop (after a half-hearted attempt failed to turn up a previously reported Painted Bunting) was at an east-side industrial complex where Swainson’s Hawks have nested for several years. This is a bit east of their usual breeding range, but they don’t seem to mind. We had good looks at two gorgeous light-morph adults. We couldn’t locate any juveniles or the nest, and it was difficult to tell whether the parents still had young in the nest or had fledglings out somewhere. We didn’t hear any young birds calling, which seemed odd.

We finished up with a surprise: three Common Loons at Fellows Lake. They were all in non-breeding plumage, and one appeared to be growing a new set of flight feathers. Do loons molt flight feathers in the fall? If I’m reading the Missouri birds checklist correctly, summer records of loons are unusual but not so much so that the need documentation.

I miss birding with Charley and Lisa and other GOASers. They helped launch my birding career, and they encouraged me to write about birds — to share my impressions and experiences with others, even in the days when my enthusiasm was far greater than either my knowledge or my skill. (So, nothing much has changed.) Thank you.

GREENE CO., MO. — Birdsong surrounds me completely. The world, though scarred by winter’s blind fury, is green again.

Robins sing continually, their complex melodies inviting deeper contemplation. But a House Wren’s rich gurgle interrupts, and the papa bluebird defends his turf against grazing starlings.

Goldfinches, Chipping Sparrows, cardinals, Red-bellied Woodpeckers, and House Finches — I hear them all as chickadees and nuthatches frolic.

From deep in the woodland, a Carolina Wren is singing; earlier, it was a Bewick’s. And now, a Chipping Sparrow has landed on the porch next to me, uttering a sharp, repeated note.

The young House Finch, fuzzy plumes still softening its head, has left, but now a thrush sings somewhere in the trees. I couldn’t say which thrush it is — this is a gap in my knowledge.

Pewees, hummingbirds, tanagers, waxwings. Chimney Swifts, a nighthawk. And always, the unbroken song of robins. While the males sing, a female gathers grasses just below the bluebird box.

Certainly, there is much to love about Texas. But I’d forgotten how much I miss Missouri.

GREENE CO., MO. — A steady barrage of raindrops drove us would-be owlers back into bed early yesterday morning. Conditions had improved only slightly by about 7:30, when we started off into the dim, gray morning.

Bruce and I rode with Lisa, and it didn’t take us long to kick up a gang of juncos, white-throats, and cardinals. Rainclouds brushed the treetops on Bear Mountain, and we drove or walked mostly in silence, hoping to hit small pockets of activity: three Golden-crowned Kinglets here, a lovely Hermit Thrush there, and pileateds calling from deep in the forest.

When the birds proved exceptionally scarce, there were at least lush growths of lichen, strong old trees, or calling frogs to take our minds off the drizzle.

None of the roadrunner spots produced this year, but chickadee numbers climbed steadily, and juncos and white-throats grew in spurts. Lisa finally managed a sapsucker, and if our White-crowned Sparrows were actually seen in Arkansas, we had no doubt that they’d been inside the circle sometime during the day.

We saw robins and waxwings in good numbers through the day. Most junipers showed little or no fruit, but one big old tree was heavy with the bluish cones, and there the birds had come to feast.

We finished the day with raptors: a Cooper’s Hawk, two kestrels, and Black and Turkey vultures, and then we headed back for chili and a compilation. We’d seen just under 40 species, and we wondered whether somebody else had found the goodie we never quite managed to get.

But it wasn’t a day for exceptional sightings, and none of the other groups did too much better than we did. We finished with 77 species in the end, which is on the low side of normal. Red-shouldered Hawks seemed strangely absent, and Horned Grebes outnumbered pied-billeds 43 to 11. Ducks were scarce, and nobody had a roadrunner. The dependable vulture roost was a bust this year, and as expected, robins weren’t roosting in big numbers, as far as we could discover.

Yes, the day was wet and slow at times, but you know … I don’t think I heard anybody complain.