There are so many beautiful warblers, it’s hard to pick a favorite, or even five or ten favorites, and yet the Black-Throated Green has to be on the list somewhere.
I used to see these birds often, every spring, but the last couple of years they haven’t been so easy to come by, at least not wherever I was, so imagine my delight to happen upon maybe as many as ten yesterday afternoon at Ottawa Trail Woods.
And I got lucky enough on the way out to record one singing. One mnemonic for this buzzy little melody is “trees, trees, beautiful trees.”
I’m still recovering from my early rise Saturday morning, but one thing is certain: the quest continues. As the days grow longer, with so much available light, it’s hard to think about anything else except looking for migrants. I believe the term is Migration Madness, a temporary but incurable condition.