May 8, 2026

Where: Huntley Meadows Park

When: 5:25 pm

Bird Species: northern cardinal, prothonotary warbler, wood duck, blue-gray gnatcatcher, barn swallow, tree swallow, great blue heron, Canada goose, common yellowthroat, indigo bunting, swamp sparrow, acadian flycatcher, solitary sandpiper, mallard, red-winged blackbird, fish crow

Things I Thought About:

• In my apartment at lunch time I heard a gray catbird, the bird I was trying to manifest yesterday, so I ran right out and saw what turned out to be a pair of them. I love that bird. And it really takes the pressure off for today's content; now I know I have a bird I want to talk about, so I can enjoy a rare evening visit to the swamp, after a pretty miserable couple of days.
• Ah. I see. I took the pressure off so much that I have once again left my camera battery in the charger.
• Forgetting your camera at Accotink is frustrating; forgetting to bring it to Huntley, my favorite place on Earth, makes me want to eat a sword.
• Okay, this is almost certainly for the best, I need to just enjoy my hobby and not give a damn about what readers are missing!!! They will get catbird and LOVE IT!!! It is a DARLING BIRD.
• Oh, fuck, there's a prothonotary warbler right there. I bet I see every bird there is tonight. I bet I get ten lifers.
• A handful of people are around, taking photos, amazed at how pretty it is and how it has been hanging out in plain view for almost 15 minutes now. I am biting my lips, fighting every urge, these people don't know you and don't care about you; nevertheless I am possessed to say, out loud, "I left my camera battery on the charger," and I am rewarded with an immediate, soothing groan of commiseration, of "been there," of dismayed "oh no!" I love bird people. We speak this common language.
• A minute or two later, when we've all sunk back into silence, the warbler stretches and somehow becomes even more visible, orangey-yellow and perfect. I say, "I think I'm taking this pretty well" and move on to a chorus of laughs. Always leave 'em laughing.
• Tonight's blog will likely just be a catalog of shots I would have taken if my camera had worked.
• Maybe I should just let them pull my teeth out. We're definitely headed that way, and my teeth are still sore from Wednesday. Although I am "stable," whatever that means. It mostly means my dental hygiene is on point; I will floss right in front of you, I don't give a fuck.
• In high school there was a persistent rumor that one of the majorettes had false teeth, and it was generally understood that that is why she was so good at blow jobs. High school students are maniacs. I don't even know what that means.
• Turns the band director was cheating on his wife (who was a former student from a different school) with her. Band directors are like the Catholic priest of public-school personnel, just move them from parish to parish to prey on the auxiliary corps. Of course the rumors were that she was a slut, and not that he was a bucket of piss.
• That blue gray gnatcatcher wishes I was DEAD. He's the angriest a bird has ever been. I saw him in the binos and laughed out loud. You should have seen it.
• I can't wait to show this place off when the swamp mallow is blooming. This park is so different every time I come here. It's a real world of its own. I'm barely thinking about my camera, but if one of these barn swallows were to land in a photographable position, I probably wouldn't be such a good sport about this.
• Yes, it is correct to use "good sport" about a situation I brought entirely upon myself. Am I not my strongest opponent?
• Also my biggest bully, now that I think about it.
• Oh my God, there is a hooded merganser mother, and she has nine ducklings lined up next to her on a log. Full view. Focus length. I would one hundred percent get this photo. I am going to throw myself into this swamp.
• I have been counting and re-counting with everybody else on the boardwalk. They are all facing away from us, there is some debate over whether that's a hoodie or a wood duck. I say hoodie but I'm ready to be wrong. We'll find out tomorrow, I suppose, when someone here surely will have posted their photo.
• The second of the two owlets is standing on his basket, almost ready to breech. I'm told the other has been out for a few days. A woman offers to lend me her battery to get a good shot. It doesn't fit, her camera is an older vintage than mine, but I'm blown away by how sweet of her to offer. There are many sweet people in the world. I helped her out a little with her shot; she didn't know there was a switch for AF/MF on the lens of her vintage 2005 Canon camera, and she said she would email the inbox the photo she took.

• Another reason it's good to have a non-camera night: as I am leaving, I hear a wood thrush, a lovely sound and a lovely bird. If I had been photographing, I would have said, "Sara Kate, your teeth hurt, your knee hurts, and there is no chance of a decent photo in this lighting" and left. As it is, I decided I was going to find that wood thrush if I have to stay here until the streetlights come on. Almost as I had the thought, the parking lot lights came on at their 7:30 timer. For a moment I thought I was a wizard.
• Never did find the wood thrush, though.
• My only regret tonight is not getting a photo of the prothonotary warbler. I have only ever seen three, and this one was uncommonly beautiful. I'm a little blue that I won't get to share it with you, but I think it's okay if it was just for me, this one time.
• Plus, I really want to talk about gray catbird, you know this.

BOTD: the gray catbird. The first thing you have to understand about this bird is that it is beloved. Every birder I have ever met loves this bird.

Imagine a bird with all the volume, swagger, and body confidence of a northern mockingbird, but none of its loutish behaviors. They'll defend if you get in their space, but they are never the aggressor, and they don't gang up on other birds.

They eat berries. And if you are wondering why they are named catbird, this bird meows. It sings, too, but it rowrrrs and mews. When I first heard one through my open balcony door today, at first I thought it was Puma, the cat that lives downstairs, until I realized it was in the tree (Puma is not a climber.)

The male and female look identical, they are a nice soft gray all over, with cinnamon-colored undertail coverts, which one hardly ever sees because they love a dense shrub, and build cup-shaped nests in there. I was tickled pink to get some full body shots today.

The first time my sister saw one with that slim dark cap, she asked me, "Who's the little guy with the hat?" and I responded enthusiastically, pretty much verbatim what I said in this blog, and now every time I see one I think, and often say out loud, "Everybody loves the little guy with the hat." Its good lore.