HENDERSON, TEXAS — Common Grackles are squawking outside. Inside, we’re putting on our suits. Jason, my erstwhile college birding accomplice, is getting married in a few hours. It’s just one more sign of spring.

Yesterday, Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, Yellow-throated Vireos, Painted Buntings, and Scissor-tailed Flycatchers performed along 254 before the rehearsal.

Now, I’d better go see about that suit.

EAST TEXAS — Things changed while I was gone. Fjord, under Courtney’s guiding hand, has begun to realize his election. I’d heard rumors of this happy fact, but I saw it for myself as he begged repeatedly, though he suffered from a cold, to go birding while I was in town. I decided I could spare a few hours before heading over to Dallas, and Courtney decided to skip her first class of the day. So it was settled.

We took Fjord’s car, since mine was stuffed with most of my earthly possessions. I had a little trouble finding CR 254, but we made it eventually and parked near the bridge.

Whenever I’m with a brand new birder, I become painfully aware of how infrequently we see calling birds, and how infrequently the looks we do get are very good.

I pointed out Chimney Swifts overhead, explaining that their shape and flight was unique. I identified the cries of Blue Jays and crows. We did see one molting Indigo Bunting, and from 782 we saw a distant kestrel and a jay.

It wasn’t a spectacular morning, and as we headed back to campus I wondered what Fjord was thinking. He added the morning’s sightings to a life list on his PDA. That’s a good sign!

ydhttmwfi: Answers

RUSK CO., TEXAS — Yellow-rumped Warblers and Blue-gray Gnatcatchers were noisy and abundant in the New Hope Cemetery. Jason was watching them when Courtney and I arrived, and he said he hadn’t seen much else yet. We found a singing Blue Grosbeak and a few bluebirds and Chipping Sparrows. I had a quick glimpse of a Red-eyed Vireo. A bobwhite called intermittently in the distance.

We headed back down the entrance road on foot in search of the Prairie Warbler we had heard singing. Along the way, we also heard a Sedge Wren jittering. We ended up hearing three more throughout the day, but none gave us even so much as a glimpse. Happily, the Prairie Warbler was more cooperative. He sat up in a sapling, throwing back his head, opening wide his slender bill, and singing his rising, buzzy song. I love to hear the Prairie Warblers sing, and this bird’s black-streaked golden body was a welcome sight.

Jason is surveying the four miles between the New Hope and Millville cemeteries for Cornell’s ebird program. (Unfortunately, the program’s data viewing tools are virtually useless and all in JavaScript, so I cannot link to his reports.) We headed north on 782, following his usual route.

We stopped at the second swallow bridge and watched the small storm of Cliff Swallows swirl and flutter. Meanwhile, a phoebe and a handful of red-wings moved about, and three Cedar Waxwings (all lacking their bright waxy tips) perched in a small willow.

Along 254, we saw scissor-tails, doves, and Savannah Sparrows, and a Lark Sparrow flushed as we drove past, flashing white tail corners on the way. A beautiful young red-tail dropped down from a power pole into the field, where it sat for a while before flying up into a small tree.

All three vireos sang in close proximity at the bridge. A Summer Tanager flew overhead. Two Indigo Buntings flamed brightly in the bushes. A chat chuckled mysteriously in the distance, and three vultures — two blacks and a turkey — loitered atop a power pole. Carolina Wrens, cardinals, and a Summer Tanager sang continually.

A truck pulled up, and a man, Surveyor Jr., got out and questioned us rather rudely about our behavior and motivations. Surveyor Sr. sauntered around the truck and took over, more pleasantly but with similar levels of disbelief. He told us about an “Indian burial ground” and “really good wetland” in the area. Eventually, they went back to work. Two Red-headed Woodpeckers flew across the road.

Back on 782, we found nine Blue-winged Teal at the edge of the big pond. Jason found his kingbird, and a Pileated Woodpecker flew out onto one of the power poles and climbed it, giving us a very nice (if distant) view. A brief walk along the highway yielded a pair of thrashers, a few white-throats (yes, still here) and a Lincoln’s Sparrow that fled before Courtney could see. Much is made of the subtle distinctions between Lincoln’s and Song Sparrows. Seeing that bird reminded me that it’s really quite simple. If it’s a Lincoln’s, you just know.

We checked the pond again upon returning to my car and discovered a few Calidris sandpipers. They were distant, and I couldn’t make much out of them at all. Jason said they looked consistent with birds he had seen better a few days ago in the same spot, and he’d called those Baird’s. Well, OK. I called them Calidris. I’m not particularly afraid of sandpipers, but I do need to be able to see them.

We made our way to Millville, where we heard a Black-throated Green Warbler (less wheezy than this recording) and a Northern Parula. Jason got a quick glimpse of the black-throated green, but we never did see the parula, which was singing the “William Tell” alternate song (something, but not exactly, like this).

By that time, the day was heating up, and we all had things to do. We talked briefly about our upcoming trip to the Gulf and went about our ways.

Jason and Courtney watch a kingbird along 782.

ydhttmwfi: The learning continues…

EAST TEXAS — My phone rang at 7:20. It was Spence. I had overslept. Apparently, my alarm went off at 6:30 as planned, but my near-total lack of sleep had finally caught up with me, and I failed to hear it. My roommate, in a misguided act of kindness, got up, turned off the alarm, and went back to sleep. Chagrined, I clambered out of bed and made it downstairs in 10 minutes.

Lynn (in town for the weekend) and Spence were in the lobby getting acquainted. I offered some sleepy excuse for my lateness, and though I didn’t feel very awake, we started on our way.

Three vireos — white-eyed, yellow-throated, and red-eyed — sang along the creek on 254. Gnatcatchers, chickadees, and yellow-rumps moved through the trees in small groups, and Carolina Wrens and a Prothonotary Warbler sang from deeper in the woods. We saw the Yellow-throated Vireo fly across the road and land in the top of an oak. He sat there singing for several minutes, but his height and the glare from the rising sun made him difficult to see.

The pond was empty except for a couple of cormorants on the barrels. An accipiter flew over, and I muttered about wings and tails and crosses and plusses as it quickly disappeared. I don’t think I communicated much useful information to Spence and Lynn, and I concluded with a weak, “Well, it might have been a sharp-shin.” Several Killdeer flew in and landed on a muddy strip by the road. A mockingbird sang nonstop, sometimes making up his own phrases, sometimes mimicking a bluebird, sometimes mimicking a titmouse.

White-eyed Vireos were plentiful but elusive, driving Lynn to threats of violence: “black-eyed vireos,” she said. Finally, though, she was able to see one, and peace was restored.

As we worked our way back toward the car, Jason pulled up behind us. He greeted Lynn, and we introduced him to Spence. He told us that he’d been unable to find Painted Buntings or Prairie Warblers but mentioned a Cliff Swallow colony under a bridge on 782. After a brief chat, he headed east down the road, and we continued back to my car. Just beyond the bridge, we were finally able to get good looks at a Yellow-throated Vireo. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had good looks at one, even though I’d surveyed lots of them the summer before.

On 782, we watched six noisy Scissor-tailed Flycatchers fluttering around the fence and power lines. Their brilliant pink sides and extravagant black-and-white streamers dazzled us all, new and old. And we did find the swallow colony. Dozens of Barn and Cliff swallows swirled through the air, glistening deep blue and chattering impatiently.

Based on Jason’s report, we decided to skip the cemetery and head to the iron bridge. There, we got good looks at a singing Prothonotary Warbler and a Red-bellied Woodpecker, which, however beautiful, looked anything but red bellied. Spence and Lynn are fans of the straightforward names like Blue-gray Gnatcatcher and Red-winged Blackbird. They get a little cynical when I come off with names like Ruby-crowned Kinglet and, well, Red-bellied Woodpecker.

A Red-shouldered Hawk circled high above the swamp, wailing. A flock of coots moved about on the surface of the water, splashing occasionally or uttering strange little sounds.

The day was heating up, and passerines were quieting down. We heard a Yellow-throated Warbler singing in a pine, and Lynn wanted to know if we could find it. We tried hard, but all we got for our efforts were brief glimpses of movement. The pines are tall and dark; they are a mysterious world that resists our efforts to see and understand.

Buntings, orioles, tanagers, hummingbirds, and most warblers are still absent. I kept trying to reassure myself and my comrades that many more species are on the way. Jason and I always get impatient at this time of year because East Texas heats up so fast. It’s 80 degrees, and we haven’t even seen an oriole!

EAST TEXAS — I got nice looks at gnatcatchers today. It was a pair low in the bushes; they flitted back and forth and up and down. The male looked ferocious with his black unibrow. Kingbirds are back too.

I met Jason out on CR 254. I needed to pick up an extra pair of binoculars from him, and he also showed me pictures from his recent trip to the Valley … Elegant Trogon, Crimson-collared Grosbeak, ani, jays, etc. Argh.

It was cool and overcast — in the mid 50s, actually, with a steady breeze. Yes, that’s 25 degrees colder than it was yesterday. The joke goes that if you don’t like the weather here, just wait a couple hours. It’ll change.

We birded the area. It was fairly quiet, though we discovered some activity up the road at a Baptist church. Two Hermit Thrushes hopped around on the road among a smattering of juncos. We got to see a Brown-headed Nuthatch working the tops of catkin-draped oaks. It gave its rubber ducky call occasionally. I really like those little birds.

An Osprey hovered over a pond on 782. It swooped over the water occasionally but never caught anything. Barn Swallows and one rough-winged swallow zipped over the field.

When the Osprey moved on, we turned our attention to the numerous sparrows moving around the field and hedgerow. Most were Savannahs, but one bird’s white eye ring and auricular frame caught my attention: Vesper Sparrow. I had completely forgotten even to look for them. The white outer tail feathers flashed in flight.

A yellowlegs flew over the pond calling loudly. I discovered I’d forgotten which call is long and loud and which is short and soft. A quick consultation with my Sibley solved the problem. Of course: greater is long and loud. Each spring, I find myself having to relearn songs and calls. But each spring, I learn them faster and find that there’re fewer I’ve actually forgotten. Maybe I’m actually making progress!

At lunch, a mockingbird chased a robin into a window of the cafeteria. Several people gathered to look at the stunned cock. He looked all right, just dazed. It was kind of nice to have engineers and computer geeks looking at a bird for once, but the circumstances were unfortunate.