One of the realities of being a nature photographer is the concept of “feast or famine.” There are those times of year when there simply isn’t much going on outside. I call these times the “doldrums,” or the “lean times” and I genuinely dread their arrival for they represent the arrival of monotony. We are actually about to enter such a period as I write out these words, and just thinking about them is a little depressing.
The counterparts to the lean times are those times of plenty when the cornucopia of nature seems endless in its variety. Every trip outside yields something of interest and more often that not, there is almost too much to describe. A single hour with a camera can yield columns worth of material and it can be so overwhelming that certain details can be forgotten, especially if they are not written down somewhere. This column is proof of this concept.
It was Sunday, Sept. 16 and I was out in my yard enjoying some beautiful weather. When one thinks of mid-September, one is apt to think of crisp mornings, bright blue skies and perhaps even the hint of wood smoke in the air. This Sunday morning was nothing like that at all. Instead, we found ourselves in the middle of a heat wave and by 9 in the morning, the temperature was already in the 70s.
I decided to take some “personal” time and walk down to the Thinking Chair with my camera and a travel mug full of coffee. What, I wondered, could be more splendid than a relaxing morning in the embrace of nature with a camera and a delicious source of caffeine?
I was trying to add species to my September list in an effort to match, or perhaps even break, my personal record of 37 species, set in 2017. September’s unusual warmth had been kind to me and I was already up to 31 species only halfway through the month. Still, the “easy” species are always easy; it is the last four or five that really take a while to locate. Therein lies the fun of any list maker’s efforts.
So, I sat down in the chair and started my observations. There were plenty of birds around, but fall birding is always difficult because the birds don’t make much noise. As a result, they don’t give themselves away with too much flair and you are forced to use your eyes much more. Every flutter of every leaf becomes a possible bird, but more often than not, it just ends up being a lot of leaves.
The call of a pileated woodpecker sounded from the woods behind me and I joyfully recorded our largest woodpecker species as No. 32 for the month. I saw almost 20 different species that morning, but only the pileated woodpecker was “new.” Then, as these things tend to happen, I caught the movement of another fluttering leaf, but it turned out not to be a leaf at all.
It was a warbler! Just what I was looking for to add to my species list. But, as these things tend to happen, I was at a loss to identify the little bugger. The photo gods, impressed with my presence, preparedness and effort, nudged the little bird in my direction and it paused on an exposed branch and posed for a moment. The photos were clear and beautiful, but I still wasn’t quite sure what I was looking at. The best I could manage at the time was CFWA (confusing fall warbler).
Many species of warblers will shed their more brilliant breeding plumages for subdued plumages of the off season. This, I imagine, serves the dual purposes of avoiding conflict amongst themselves while also attracting far less attention from predators. The problem, for birders anyway, arises when many species of birds that are basically identical in size all don costumes that are very similar shades of the same olive drab. If not for the magical invention of cameras, which can freeze snippets of time for later study, many a CFWA would go unidentified.
As it happens, the workweek started up again on Monday and I actually forgot about my little mystery bird. By Saturday, Sept. 22, my list was up to 36 species, and the following Sunday, I added two more and set a new record. On Thursday, Sept. 27, I finished adding to my list with the great blue heron and the red-bellied woodpecker, which ended up being species No. 40!
Then, on Sunday, Sept. 30, I set about reviewing my records to compose the final list of 40 species for the month of September, and in so doing, I came across that notation of a CFWA seen two weeks earlier. Was my number actually 41?
I did some detective work and came up with a tentative idea. I sent a photo to my brother for a second opinion and received confirmation. My CFWA was actually a palm warbler, so cloaked in mystery with its drab fall plumage that it was almost unrecognizable. The only hint to its identity was the bright yellow patch of feathers under the tail. Had I not captured that one photo, I might have been stuck with CFWA.
So only now, in late October, can I amend my September list to read 41 species; a new, new record! As we enter the autumn doldrums, I will regale you of stories of past glories until the snow flies and a flurry of winter activity captures our collective imagination. Until next time, keep your eyes peeled for fluttering leaves.
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 21 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the U.S. Forest Service and Massachusetts State Parks, and currently teaches high school biology and physics. Visit speakingofnature.com for more information, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.