June 7, 2026

Where: Huntley Meadows Park

When: 6:40 am

Bird Species: northern cardinal, eastern bluebird, red-headed woodpecker, common yellowthroat, indigo bunting, American goldfinch, blue-gray gnatcatcher, prothonotary warbler, European starling, red-winged blackbird, eastern kingbird, green heron, great egret, wood duck, Canada goose, mallard, great blue heron, osprey, barn swallow, great horned owl, Carolina wren, common grackle, red-bellied woodpecker, ruby-throated hummingbird, downy woodpecker, mourning dove, eastern wood pewee, American crow

Things I Thought About:

• The minute my feet leave the pavement, I hear immediately a Carolina wren on the right side of the path, and a woodpecker drumming on the left side of the path. They are equally loud, and sound equidistant. This is Dungeons & Dragons shit. "To your right lies a song, to your left a tool, a falcon guards the portal." I don't track either, I stay on the trail today.
• The falcon is not a real falcon, that's just phrase I dug up from somewhere in my wildly undisciplined brain, I think it's an Amelia Peabody mystery title.
• I haven't seen a falcon here for years. I actually haven't even seen a hawk in months. They tell me the great horned owl took over the red-shouldered hawks' nest from last year, which would explain why it collapsed under her weight. I imagine the hawks went and nested somewhere else this year. That's a shame; I hope they come back in the fall, at least.
• As I reach the boardwalk, it rains lightly for about four minutes. Not remotely enough to feed the ponds, just enough to steam off for the rest of the morning. It is barely seven a.m. and my t-shirt neck is wet with sweat.
• I can see two American goldfinches, a million miles away, tiny splotches of yellow in the meadow. There is no hope of a decent photo, but I do love discoveries like this. It pleases me that I know what they are, even before I raise my binos, and love the immense scale of the old trees behind the meadow grass. These little birds should be swallowed up by it all, but they aren't. They absolutely command attention, but only if you're paying attention.

• I suspect that in about ten minutes the sun will be fully out, and that about ten minutes after that I will be dying. I hope at the least when the sun hits I'll be able to find this indigo bunting that has been singing the whole time.
• I spot the prothonotary, and I say "Oh!" out loud, which draws over a trio of other birders. It's a lifer for one of them. They are visiting from Ohio and have been excited to come out here. This is one of the birds they were hoping to see today. I love being around people when they see a life bird. The only thing better is seeing a life bird around people for whom it is also a life bird.

• I'm doing my list so far into the voice memo and realized I forgot to say "red-winged blackbird." If I am at Huntley between March and October you should just assume red-winged blackbirds. There are always half a dozen, screaming and whistling.
• Oh, okay.

• I am dripping in sweat, so hot, and ready to call it day. It is not quite 8:30 am. This does not bode well for the blog, I think, until I remember I am still recovering from a pretty severe cold. It will be better on the woods trail; it's just the boardwalk that is unbearable.
• An osprey appears from thin air, it seems, one minute just there, flying right towards us on the boardwalk. He hovers for a second, dives, comes up with a fish, and disappears again. The whole event took less than 25 seconds. Incredible bird.

• I have to run into Walmart on the way home, and I'm so glad I put an extra T-shirt in the car. In addition to the toothpaste and saline and whatnot, I think I'm going to buy a couple of cheap cotton nightgowns and just plan to lay around in them for the rest of the summer, like I'm in a Tennessee Williams play.
• Oh, another wren singing. Likely not the one from first thing this morning, but it's always good to see a wren singing. My spark bird.

• Look at that tiny little frog. How many times in my life have I just walked past things like this.

• I'm going to list at least 25 birds today, and if I count the 'heard but not seen' it would probably crack 30.
• In the midst of life, we are in death, is something I've heard often enough on a Sunday, but the reverse is also true. Sunday mornings, as ever, are good for considering things like that.

BOTD: the eastern kingbird.

Now, I recognize these photos of a bird in silhouette are not much to look at, compared to some of the others in today's post, but this was my bird of the day. Kingbirds are flycatchers, and this is prime territory for them, open spaces and abundant snags. They are pure white underneath, with dark gray back and a black cap. They have a white tail tip. You can see none of that here, but that's what they look like.

The last time I mentioned him I said he had square shoulders, even though birds do not have shoulders, and then I saw him posted up like this, looking absolutely jacked, and it made me laugh.

The last three times I've been here, he has been perched in that same tree, and today I discovered why. There's another tree about fifty feet in front of his perch, and there is a nest in there. His lady was on the nest today; I was trying to tell from her behavior whether or not there were hatchlings. I suspect not yet, since I saw mostly her head when I kept checking today. When there are babies in a nest, I mostly see birds' butts as they are always reaching down with their heads, fussing. But maybe there were, or maybe there will be soon, and maybe next time I'll see them.

The second time I went around the loop, a couple of starlings were being a little nosy, and the kingbird flew over and drove them away. For a minute or so, he perched up, whistling and vocalizing from the very tippy top of the tree with the nest. He isn't an especially big bird, but bigger than a starling, and he was really asserting dominance in a way that was visible all over the boardwalk.

All I could see of this bird today was his outline, and he was a treat at every angle.