5.25.2023

The Colors of May

"Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night."

― Rainer Maria Rilke
I'm done birding.

Well, for the spring season, anyway. Overall it was a very enjoyable migration. I got to see most of the expected warblers, vireos, flycatchers, thrushes, and sparrows that come through southern Wisconsin. I put little to no emphasis on shorebirds or waders, but I still managed to cross the 200 species threshold. That's plenty good enough, as I'm in competition with no one. Perhaps the biggest surprise of this spring was the Evening Grosbeak at the Pheasant Branch Creek Corridor followed closely by a pair of White-eyed Vireos that were fun to watch. I guess there were no notable songbird misses, but I didn't find an Olive-sided Flycatcher at the corridor for the second year in a row. That I don't have one this year or last is of no consequence to me ― I don't need one and won't chase one.
Perhaps the most enjoyable aspect of spring migration is simply helping other birders find birds, and help them listen and read the woods. A birder who'll go unnamed wrote me a lovely 'thank you' note, conveying precisely the reason I spend as much time birding as I do:

"You know, the last few days, I have been thinking a lot about my years of apprenticing with you and what a gift they have been. To be able to recognize so many birds by now has enriched my life so much. I look at and experience the world and the seasons differently now. Especially the 'empty' months if March-early April, knowing how many creatures are returning each in their appointed time makes the world full of wonder and companionship."

Such sentiments keep me interested and engaged. It's kind of like watching a movie you've already seen with someone who hasn't ― watching them enjoy it for the first time is part of the thrill even though you know how it'll go. Observing that individual evolve into a really good birder is the juice for me. Do you tutor new birders? If not, why not? Don't be selfish with your time.
And then there are those people I regret forming friendships with over the years. I do bump into them at the creek corridor on occasion and my better sense thinks not to interact with them. Still, sometimes it can't be helped when there's a good bird nearby ― letting them know where the WEVIs and BTBWs have been seen. But if my help is met with the cold-shoulder, then I quickly realize it was a mistake to be generous with my observations. Oh, I do know there isn't anything the matter with me apart from suffering from an abundance of personality, but here's a donut for them.
This is part of the reason I think not to bird at the creek corridor during spring and fall migration ― while I do enjoy the company of the birders I refer to as being members of my posse, there are a few people I just do not want to see or interact with. I enjoy helping people find birds and mentor them to become better birders, but sometimes I'd rather just stay home or go elsewhere. But that dang creek corridor is just so good during migration that the gems almost always trump the poo; the unrequited and the domineering.
I've birded these trails for over 30 years and know Pheasant Branch like no one else does. There have been many changes and I know its evolution that even precedes my discovery of it. Though fragmented, this blog chronicles a good share of that time. Perhaps the 20-year mark will be a good time to retire it this blog for good. Though time consuming, it's about the only record that remains on account of wiping out all my eBird data a few years ago as a multifaceted protest. 
But even once this blog ends, or I end ... the birds will keep coming back ...
Just as its wildflowers will blossom ...
In endless forms and colors ...
Both large and small ...
A Black Swallowtail on a dandelion ― oh wait, it's two!
Such interesting creatures ...
Just for a moment ... the butterfly and I ...
And then just like that ... it's gone. 
And then in a whisper ...

And then a shout ...

Bring on the insects!

They're what summer is all about.

All images © 2023 Mike McDowell