The snow was up to my nose and
the temperatures hovered around a balmy 10 degrees Fahrenheit. In our area the winter sun rises and arcs low
enough through the sky to shine directly into my home office window. Without leaves from the backyard woods to
intercept the bright rays, the light is just too strong to keep the blinds
open. The direct sunlight along with the
reflection from the snow makes it impossible to see my
On one particular day a few weeks
ago while clicking away at my keyboard and squinting at a bunch of tiny little
numbers moving across my screen, I heard a fluttering on the windowsill, on the
other side of my light barrier. The
sound went away quickly, and I returned to my work. Moments later the sound returned. OK, that’s it. I had to know what it was. Slowly rotating the louvers, I was able to
glimpse a bird I’d never seen before at our home, yet alone elsewhere. On noticing a small patch of yellow on this
smallish bird, I thought “oh, it’s a goldfinch”. But huh, it’s winter and the male goldfinches
couldn’t even be close to start putting on their brilliant yellow summer
plumage. Well, it’s certainly not a
warbler. But no one will ever confuse me
with a knowledgeable birder.
We live within a half hour drive of
the famed Magee Marsh,
home to Black Swamp Bird Observatory
(BSBO). Magee Marsh, and the adjacent Ottawa
National Wildlife Refuge sit on the southern shore of Lake Erie, the
shallowest but most bio-diverse of the Great Lakes. Legions of fantastic avian creatures stop
here in large numbers on their long and arduous northward migration from their
winter homes in the tropics. The
protected ecosystems here provide just the right mixture of shelter and food to
enable the feathered songsters to rest and refuel on the abundant insect life. Once they’ve renewed their energy and winds
are right, they take off on the journey northward across the vast lake. Thousands of birders from all over the
country, and even some from other countries flock here to experience the annual
gathering of dozens and dozens of different songbirds. For many years only a weekend event, the bird
watching community has expanded the official festivities into “The Biggest Week in American
Birding.” Throngs of serious and
merely curious birders have had a most welcome impact on the local tourism
industry. There is so much publicity surrounding
this annual natural event a person can’t help but learn or think they’ve
learned about the celebrated birds.
And that’s where I now realize I
fall into that category of “thought I learned”.
As I looked again at our small bird with yellow patches, I kept thinking
it’s a warbler but always came back to “it cannot be a warbler.” I had listened, admittedly distracted by all
the surrounding activity, to several area ornithologists while they identified,
banded, and counted scads of different species during the celebrated week of
birding. I was under the impression the
warblers all go way south to the tropics for a nice winter of sitting on the
beach, sipping margaritas and enjoying other good time activities. Oops -I guess that’s what I’d do if I was in
the tropics for the winter. Well
whatever the birds do down south, in spring they head north in three waves to
hit the Lake Erie shore between late April and late May.
Given my confidence of having “learned” from the experts. I was sure this
backyard bird was no warbler. Or hey
–maybe this was one of those rare cases that gets birders all atwitter with excitement
and they would flock by the carloads to observe the unusual sighting in my
backyard.
OK –I pulled out my Peterson’s
Field Guide to Eastern Birds. Yikes,
this creature sure had all the field Yellow-rumped
Warbler. I surmised it had to be
incredibly rare at this time of the year.
Posting a few pictures and asking for verification, my friends confirmed
it was indeed the winged vertebrate shown in the field guide.
markings of a 
During the week, the bird
continued pecking into the crevices on the windowsill and the corners of the
outdoor deck rafters jutting out above my lower level office. There must have been some tasty insects
camped out there trying to hide out from predators. As the week progressed, this cheerful bird continued
to distract me from my work. Fortunately
before I posted the sighting to some rare bird network, I learned not all
warblers go to the sunny south. This
particular species does winter in our area.
Whew – embarrassment averted. It
turns out this is perhaps the northernmost part of its overwintering area, but
by no means was the bird’s presence rare, or even uncommon. So don’t look for my name in the rare
sightings journals.
For approximately two weeks I
didn’t get much work done while I enjoyed the chirps, fluttering, and antics of
this little Yellow-rumped Warbler. Fortunately
my boss wasn’t terribly upset (I’m self-employed). Without a green sprout in sight, this
distracting visitor reinforced my understanding that our conversion to landscaping
with native plants has enriched my life.
In the past several years as we’ve continued the journey, gradually
replacing our landscaping with native plants, we’ve stopped feeding the birds
with store-bought birdseed. Yet, we
have more birds with a greater variety of species than we had before. The native plants, unlike the old non-native
ones, are providing the
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