The Thrill of the Trill

For the past  few days, when I've headed out on my morning walk, I've heard a high-pitched trilling in the treetops nearby. Without binoculars, I couldn't be sure, but I knew that had to be a flock of waxwings. . . if only I had brought my binoculars . . .


This morning, as I was fixing my lunch, I heard them again; this time outside my back door. I grabbed my binoculars and my camera and scrabbled out into the woods. 
Following that high-pitched trilling wasn't difficult, but seeing them was. The pines are 50-60 feet high, and these birds love to sit in the very top branches. Rounding a corner on the trail, I saw them rise up in a loud rush of wings and a chorus of trills.
They landed in a nearby tree, where, I quickly realized, they were desperately seeking refuge from the buffeting winds. Not great for taking photos, but I did get a few:

Cedar waxwing flock in top of slash pine

I followed them around, from tree to tree, until they landed where I could get a better focus on just one or two. Here, even though it's what I'd refer to as an acceptable ID photo, not a great portrait, you can see their beautiful colors (even the little bits of a red bar that appears on the wings.) Look how the wind is ruffling their crests.

Cedar waxwings blown about by the wind

At one point, I turned around to follow the sound of a very different voice and found a northern parula, hopping through the brushy leaves of a small shrub right next to me. No time to really focus, just point, shoot, and pray. It came out OK, but since this is one of my favorite warblers, I'm including it anyway. What a great mix of colors in this little one! (No wonder everyone loves to hear its sweet little warble every year!)

Northern parula; probably a first year male, just beginning to get its dark "necklace".

Then, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a flashing yellow rump in another nearby shrub. What a day for warblers!

Yellow rumped warbler flashing its colors.

It's on, fellow birders! If you aren't out there, you aren't going to see this year's migration. They are dribbling back early and they are everywhere. . . see you out there, soon! The trill of the hunt has been sounded!

Postmarked: West Melbourne, FL

Bring Bok the Spring

I'm always amused by non-natives who go around complaining that Florida doesn't have seasons; obviously, they've never been here in the spring, or if they have, they've never stepped outside of their hotel beyond the beach or amusement park.

Florida has one of the most beautiful spring seasons in the world, if you know where to look, and Bok Tower Gardens is one place that capitalizes on everything that's amazing here in spring.

Azaleas line the pathways in February

If you arrive early enough in the morning, in addition to a visual feast of splashy borders created by red, pink, and white azaleas and camellias, you'll be treated to the lively singing of mockingbirds, wrens, warblers, finches, and jays throughout the gardens.

The tower rings out with a familiar song or a lively carol every hour.

Plenty of benches are tucked away in quiet nooks, under spreading oaks, or around open fields, where you can relax and enjoy the beauty or watch the people. This morning, there were very few people there before 10 a.m., so it was as if I had the entire garden to myself.

The swan was missing from the reflecting pool around the tower, and I can't help but wonder if last year's sighting of a big cat nearby has anything to do with that. During that visit, the keepers were frantically trying to capture and crate the bird for the night; I don't know if they were successful or not. Hopefully, it was just old age that took him away, and not a bobcat, panther, or coyote. Or perhaps he was just sleeping in . . .

Camellia loaded with honeybees.

And there seemed to be, this morning at least, no shortage of honeybees, although there certainly seemed to be a shortage of blossoms with sweet nectar . . . every bee in the garden seemed to be focused on this single white camellia . . . something special, I suppose, in bee cuisine it had to offer . . .

At 9 a.m., the tower rang out with "Try to Remember," and I thought how oddly inappropriate that was for the splendor of springtime renewal that filled the gardens. This wasn't a morning for nostalgia; this was a morning better suited for a little Beatles' "Here Comes the Sun" or e.e. cummings "In just spring . . ."