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where we led a week of nature exploration from Sea View Inn on Pawleys Island, S.C.
One morning was spent in the woods bordering a cypress swamp. I heard a song I learned many years ago — a series of five notes that swept downward and then upward at the end. A yellow-throated warbler. The bird was feeding among the new leaves of a black gum tree. Our group aimed their binoculars toward the sound.
At last, all were rewarded by the sight of the 4 1/2-inch bird. It had a brilliant yellow throat, black cheeks, a white line over the eye, and black streaks on the white breast. At the sight, there was a collective gasp from the group.
From a nearby oak, draped with long, gray strands of Spanish moss, came the unmistakable buzzy trill of a Parula warbler. The buzzy song ended with a snap, characteristic of this little blue-backed bird. The bird, a male, displayed white wing bars, rich yellow underparts and a streak of dark reddishbrown across his breast.
While constantly darting through the new oak leaves, the warbler paused occasionally to sing. He threw back his head and quivered with the effort of announcing himself.
Warbler-watching is an exhilarating experience, but it requires quickness of reaction and prompt focusing of binoculars. From long periods of searching the treetops, one often acquires what bird watchers call “warbler neck.” It is all worth the effort.
A cold front moved through the area yesterday with violent thunderstorms. Today I may experience a warbler wave here in Flint Hill. Migrating land birds will not fight winds from the north, but drop to the treetops to feed until more favorable winds push in from the south. The tiny "birds will ride these winds to their nesting grounds in New England and Canada.
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