Words On Birds 05-08-26

 

     The warm, southwest winds earlier this week brought in the first big waves of spring migrants.  There were Baltimore and orchard orioles, rose-breasted grosbeaks, scarlet tanagers and lots of those amazing warblers – “butterflies of the bird world” Peterson called them. Many of these brilliantly colored birds are seen framed in the budding or flowering trees and shrubs that are bursting out everywhere.

 

     These birds bring out the birders, and many come to this area to enjoy the migration that is always special on Plum Island and in the Newburyport area. So we also see the familiar faces of birding friends we would run into, some that we hadn’t seen all winter. It all becomes a social event as we catch up on each other’s lives and share birding stories. The whole experience is what makes it so special.

 

     Also special for me are the memories that warblers hold for how I began birding. For those of you who haven’t heard the story, I thought that I would share it again with you one last time:

 

     It was about this time in May over half a century ago when my sixth-grade teacher, Mr. Beach, said he had to go to Boston University in Boston on a Saturday and planned to stop at Mt. Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge to do some bird watching. He asked if I would like to join him. 

 

     He singled me out of all the class to go birding! But to Mt. Auburn Cemetery? For Birds? I don’t know if I was too flattered or too scared to say no!

 

     That Saturday morning in May was bright and crisp, and it warmed up quickly. The cemetery was like a giant botanical garden with all kinds of flowering trees, shrubs and flowers in full bloom. An unforgettable sweet aroma filled the air. People with binoculars were everywhere, walking along the streets and paths.

 

     We stopped first at a pond where the monument of Mary Baker Eddy graces its banks. There I was introduced to my first warbler, the myrtle warbler (now called yellow-rumped warbler.) It was a stunning little bird that had black and white patterns against a soft blue-gray, with splashes of yellow. I also saw my first male Baltimore oriole, and watched a spotted sandpiper “teetering” along the edge of the pond.

 

     It was the stop at Spectacle Pond (now called Auburn Lake), a small pond with a bridge across the middle, surrounded by rhododendron, birches, ash and beech trees that left the indelible impression. It was the peak of migration and every bush and tree around the pond was “moving” with warblers. These tiny, brightly colored birds with flashes of bright yellows, reds, oranges, blues, white and ebony were the hook. 

 

     Magnolia, black-throated blue, black-throated green, redstart, yellow and palm warblers. Their spring plumages made each species distinct and relatively easy to identify, matching the pictures in Mr. Beach’s field guide. Their songs, as varied as the birds themselves, added to the fascination.

 

     There must have been a dozen or more different species of warblers that morning. I remember the kindness of total strangers helping to point out each species and explain what marking made it a magnolia or palm warbler. I remember the disappointment of not seeing certain birds called out by others. I remember more the disappointment when Mr. Beach announced that it was time to leave. Yes, I was hooked.

 

     As soon as I got home, I made my first list. I immediately started talking to my mother about binoculars and a field guide. She thought that it would be a passing interest, but she used her Kay’s credit card to buy me a pair of 7×50 binoculars. Mr. Beech gave me my own Peterson’s Field Guide to the Birds and in it he inscribed “I hope this book helps not only to identify birds, but also to know them. Mr. Beech.” It took me some time, but I eventually figured out exactly what he meant. And I still have, and cherish, that field guide.

 

     Mount Auburn became one of my favorite places to visit during spring while I was growing up in Newton. During junior high school, I would awaken at 3:30am on May mornings and walk four to five miles to Watertown Square to catch the first trolley at 5:00 am. When I got to the cemetery, I would have to crawl under the gate because it wasn’t open yet, and I didn’t have a key like many birders. I would have to leave by 7:00am to get to school on time. Many mornings the trees were so busy with birds that it was tough to leave at all.

 

     Perhaps this story might encourage you to venture out to observe the color and excitement of a May migration morning. You might catch a wave of warblers locally on Plum Island, at Maudslay State Park, or, if you are lucky, in your own back yard. Though these areas might not carry the sweet fragrance of Mount Auburn, the vivid colors and songs of those tiny butterflies of the bird world are sure to get you hooked.