When I bird my “local patch” – my neighborhood’s preserve – I rarely have a specific target in mind. You just never know what’s going to be there. But today was different. I really wanted to see a Philadelphia Vireo.

I just love that adorable, little bird. That admission may cost me some birder points, or some such, but I stand by it. And I don’t get to see them very often. They come through Georgia, or at least my little part, the last ten or so days each September. I’ve seen at least one here each of the last four years, with the exception of the last (I was a little distracted by the birth of my first child, but that’s ok, she’s even more adorable than Philly Vireos).

So it wasn’t much of a stretch to wish for a Philly today. But it didn’t start out very promising. Most of my vireo sightings have been in the clearing around a small observation deck in the middle of the preserve. (I have no idea why it’s there; it’s not really overlooking anything. But I see a lot of birds from it, so I’m not complaining.) But when I got to the deck this morning, there was nothing around except for a couple of Ruby-throated Hummingbirds that have been fighting over a patch of jewelweed. So I waited. Eventually, a Red-eyed Vireo popped up, but that was about it.

I was just about to leave when I thought, “I just want to see a Philadelphia Vireo”. The exact moment after that plea went through my mind, I spotted this little guy.

Two Philadelphia Vireos had materialized in the willows. They foraged around the clearing for a couple of minutes, and then disappeared as suddenly as they appeared.

You can choose to believe that this was just a case of a birder knowing exactly when and where a particular species was likely to show up. But me? I’m wondering if this isn’t some sort of latent birding superpower. I guess I’ll find out tomorrow – I’m going to be thinking about how much I want to see a Mourning Warbler.

You summoned?

Until this last week, I haven’t birded much recently. It’s been hard to get out since there’s a baby girl at home who likes to spend time with her daddy. And who can say no to that? But if I’m honest with myself, it’s also been tough to find motivation to get out. Summer is hot (and unbearably muggy here in the South) and there aren’t that many birds out.

Thank goodness for fall and migration! The chance of seeing different birds is a good motivation. But since I still have the time constraints to deal with, I mostly bird close to home. So I’m really fortunate that our neighborhood has its own nature preserve.

Gray-cheeked Thrush at my neighborhood preserve

It’s very nice, yes, but it’s definitely not what you would call a birding hotspot. It’s small, about 10 acres, but with fairly nice habitat. I’ve birded it five times in the last week, for about an hour each morning, and have only averaged 25 species a day. So the diversity isn’t all that great on any given visit. But, on the bright side, there’s usually something new every day. One day it’s a Yellow-breasted Chat, the next a Worm-eating Warbler.

A single morning at a true migration hotspot would probably yield more species than I get here all season. But still, it’s great to have a place so close by where I can loose myself amongst the birds for an hour or so. And, if nothing else, it appears that my birding slump is over.

Northern Waterthrushes are very common here in migration

With the end of May, spring migration is petering out here in the South. But for me, it never really began. It feels like I’ve barely seen any migrants this year. That would be understandable if I hadn’t been birding at all this season, but that’s not the case, though I may not have been out as much as I have in past years.

There’s a ten acre “nature preserve” in our neighborhood with fairly good habitat and a nice trail running through it. Every spring and fall during migration, I try to take a stroll through it on weekdays before work. I usually end up birding it 10-20 days per season, for about an hour at a time.

Understand, it is no migrant trap. Five species of warblers is a very good day. But what it lacks in sheer numbers (other than cardinals, they’re all over the place), it makes up for in diversity. In six years, I’ve recorded over 30 species of warblers there. And day-to-day, you can almost count on seeing something different. I may have a slow day, but it was always enjoyable.

But not this year. I don’t know where the birds were, but they weren’t here. Sure, the “usuals” showed up: several White-eyed Vireos on territory, a Kentucky Warbler singing most every day (but haven’t seen him this year), Northern Waterthrushes bobbing along the water-filled ditches beside the trail. But there were very few days that I encountered anything different. And some days the place seemed devoid of birds altogether.

I don’t know why this spring was so different. The preserve hasn’t changed in any appreciable way that I can tell. Are there simply fewer birds? I know that most neotropical migrants are declining, some severely, but you wouldn’t expect that to manifest itself in the numbers at just one site in a single year. Maybe it was simply an off year?

I hope so, because otherwise I would have to entertain the possibility that it was me. Were the birds still there, but I wasn’t able to find them?

One result is that I didn’t enjoy my time birding nearly as much as I usually do. I appreciate any time that I’m able to spend in the field, and I still enjoy the “usual” birds. But I just couldn’t help but be disappointed most days. Enough so, that after several slow days in the middle of the month, while seemingly everyone else in the area was finding Connecticut Warblers, I was wondering what the point would be of going back. I lost the will to bird. And that bothers me immensely.

Has anyone else ever felt this way? And more importantly, how do you get over it?