DUNCANVILLE, TEXAS — Saturday, Jason Pike and I took part in the 14th annual Caddo Lake Warm-up Winter Bird Count, a joint effort of the Northeast Texas Field Ornithologists and the Shreveport-based Bird Study Group. The count is always held on the first Saturday of December, so it isn’t a Christmas Bird Count, but it is conducted in the same way, with teams birding territories inside a 15-mile circle.

This circle straddles the Texas-Louisiana border and surrounds Caddo Lake. Caddo is the only naturally formed lake in the entire state of Texas, but it has been dammed and regulated by humans for the last century or so. It’s a beautiful and eerie maze of sloughs, bayous, bald cypress swamps, and marshes in the heart of the Piney Woods forests. This is the sixth year that Jason and I have done the count together (2001-05, 2007).

Most of the area Jason and I cover is wooded, so we struggle to find open-country species like Red-tailed Hawk, American Kestrel, and meadowlarks. This year, we found two red-tails and a Loggerhead Shrike, but we missed kestrels and meadowlarks. The area is also very rural. I don’t recall ever seeing a House Sparrow on our route, and the 12 starlings that we saw this year were more than we usually get — we’ve missed them entirely some years.

We also have very little open water, so we rarely get many waterfowl. This year we had 20 Wood Ducks, two Mallards, and 50 flyover Snow Geese (which was actually a good find). We couldn’t find a coot to save our lives.

Here’s what Caddo Lake looks like on a map:

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But here’s what it looks like in reality:

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You can see that there is very little open water on the Texas side of the lake; it’s mostly swamp.

Sadly, the complex Caddo ecosystem is vulnerable and deteriorating. One of many concerns is invasive exotics like water hyacinth, giant salvinia, and nutrias. It’s not a new story, really. The Caddo Indians who inhabited these lands were driven out long ago by invaders from far away. A few of their descendants still survive in Oklahoma, but their language — the language from which the word “Texas” is derived — is almost extinct.

There is a joy and comfort in getting to know a place and its birds — in expecting a Winter Wren on a certain stretch of road (yes, again), Inca Doves in Karnack (none) or Uncertain (three), Savannah Sparrows at the corner (yes) and chippies in the field (never fails). And of course, there are often surprises too — a woodcock sitting out in the sun, a very late Snowy Egret, or hundreds of Rusty Blackbirds flocking at dusk. This year, there were no woodcocks, snowies, or rusties, but we did have an Osprey overhead at the state park. Ospreys have been recorded on seven of the 14 counts so far. But we did even better than that — we found a bird that was not only new for the count but even for the Caddo Lake bird list:

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

EAST TEXAS — As a graduating senior with decent grades, I’m exempt from finals. Spence, on the other hand, had three this morning. But Courtney was free, and the two of us went out to the iron bridge road again. The cool, cloudy weather pattern has continued, and I hoped for more warblers.

I heard a Painted Bunting singing almost as soon as we got inside the gate. I got a couple of quick glimpses of it through the branches, but it flew across the road and deep into the pines before Courtney could see it. We did get a good look at a singing chat, but the road before the bridge was fairly quiet, as it had been yesterday.

When we reached the bridge, we saw Great and Cattle egrets scattered across the lake. I almost ignored a distant white gleam, but I raised my binocs and discovered it was an Osprey. I pointed it out to Courtney, who said she’d seen something that looked like it fly by earlier. The perched Osprey was fairly distant and showed no indications of going anywhere, so we eventually moved on.

We picked up a blackpoll in about the same place I’d first seen them yesterday. We also saw a couple of Tennessees farther down the road. A Yellow-throated Warbler sang from the bare branches at the very top of a tree.

Too soon, we had to turn around so I could get back to campus for an exit interview. On the way back, we flushed two more Painted Buntings, but neither of them would sit up long enough for Courtney to get a good look. She saw one flying down the road, but that’s hardly a satisfying view of a Painted Bunting.

When we crossed the bridge, we saw the Osprey perched in the same place it had been before.

I was back a little past 1, but it didn’t matter: the interview was postponed for the second time. “We could have seen more birds,” Courtney mused. Yes. Yes we could have. Rats.

ydhttmwfi: Another chance

EAST TEXAS — After a most unsatisfactory movie experience last night, I slept late and didn’t get going until almost 10. I had a long to-do list, but I happened to check the weather and see that the winds were from the northeast. The morning was cloudy and cool — not even 60. Warblers! I thought, and a few moments later, I was in the car.

I stopped first at Shroud and Bev’s apartment to check on the House Finch nestlings. They have grown considerably, their feathers are in, and their eyes are open. I don’t expect they’ll be in the nest much longer.

Dragonflies swarmed on the iron bridge road.

Cardinals, Indigo Buntings, White-eyed Vireos, Carolina Wrens, Yellow-breasted Chats and a Prothonotary Warbler sang. I caught a brief glimpse of a Yellow-throated Warbler. They are not singing anymore, I noticed; I suppose they’re busy with family responsibilities now. I was pleased to see and hear the colorful summer residents, but I was disappointed not to encounter any migrants pushing through (with the exception of two yellow-rumps).

That changed once I crossed the bridge. First, I saw two Orchard Orioles. One was a first-year male, and the other was a female. I wondered if they could be a pair. Apparently, some first-year males will attempt to breed.

As the orioles fled, I saw more movement in the low trees. Some of the birds were Indigo Buntings, and I also got quick glimpses of a bright, eye-ringed Nashville Warbler and a couple of Tennessee Warblers. Then a family of chickadees moved through. The fledglings had practically no tails, so they looked like little fuzzballs. They begged and fluttered and flew clumsily from twig to twig. The next tree held a large flock of Cedar Waxwings, and the sky was full of swallows, martins, and the occasional Black Vulture.

An Anhinga soared overhead.

Farther down, I encountered another flock of Nashville and Tennessee Warblers. A parula sang half-heartedly, and I finally saw him — white eye crescents, dark breast band, green back. A plain-faced vireo moved silently with the warblers. It was very plain — probably a Warbling Vireo, but it would have been nice to hear it sing.

A Yellow-billed Cuckoo called hollowly from the taller trees. Two Baltimore Orioles flew by. A pair of pewees darted between twigs above the path, calling occasionally, and a hummingbird or two whizzed overhead.

I saw two small Buteos soaring high. The plumage had no distinguishing marks, but the birds were molting their primaries. Sibley confirmed my suspicion: They were immature broad-wings. This discovery helped considerably in understanding Saturday’s difficulties. Most of those birds lacked any distinguishing plumage features (no dark primaries, no banded tails), but many of them were molting their flight feathers. Sometimes I forget how much I still have to learn.

Campus responsibilities pulled me slowly back toward the car. Wood Duck pairs periodically exploded out of the water-filled ditches, squealing their annoyance. Catbirds cried from the low growth. Another flock of warblers caught my eye. Many were Tennessees, but a beautiful female black-and-white worked the limbs and trunks, nuthatchlike. After looking at Tennessee after Tennessee, I saw a small bird drop down onto branch. Without my binocs, it looked like a chickadee, but as I raised them, I realized it was a Blackpoll Warbler — a bright male with white cheeks, streaked sides, and neon legs. That’s a pretty good find here, and he was one sharp-looking bird.

Snowy Egrets in the lake and Pine Warblers in the pines slowed me down on the way back to the car, and I was nearly late for my 1:30 appointment.

EAST TEXAS — After another too-short night, I met Spence and Courtney in the Thomas lobby at 7. On our way out of campus, we stopped by Shroud and Bev’s apartment to check on the House Finch nestlings.

As we began our walk down the iron bridge road, the scent of honeysuckle was heavy and sweet in the cool morning air. Spence and Courtney had both worn long sleeves, but all I had on was a T-shirt. That cool morning air was stirred by frequent breezes, and I soon began to think I was going to freeze.

We heard a few birds singing, but most of them were not interested in being seen. And I was freezing.

By the time we had crossed the bridge and walked up onto the railroad tracks, the sun was beginning to warm things up. We noticed an open gate across the tracks. A square sign on the bars said simply “29.” I thought it sounded ominous (like a some secret testing facility), but Spence and Courtney were ready to investigate. “We have to see what’s around that bend,” Spence said.

So we took the road. It wound through open, upland habitat. Dozens of swifts and swallows swarmed over a small creek. Indigo Buntings were plentiful, and we heard several Yellow-breasted Chats but never got good looks at any of them. Great Egrets and Great Blue Herons flew overhead. I heard two Prairie Warblers, but we didn’t get to see much of them.

By late morning, the sky was rich blue, the air was balmy, and it was a perfect day to be outside in the sun. On the way back to the car, we had a wonderful look at a Prothonotary Warbler who sat out near the end of a branch, singing his chorus with gusto.

ydhttmwfi: The iron bridge road