Today at Montlake Fill the trees were full of warblers. It was the latest migratory wave of birds passing through. Earlier in the season I watched Least Sandpipers, then Western Sandpipers, then Yellowlegs appear and disappear. One morning, only for a hour, there were hundreds of Vaux’s Swifts circling and gleaning insects above the trees on the east end of the preserve. A week ago a large flock of American Pipits occupied the mowed grass. They’re gone now. Today, there were hundreds of Yellow-rumped Warblers calling from every tree. Their brusque "chup" call filled the air. Migratory fallouts of this density are common in season in the East, but I have rarely been around this many songbirds in the Northwest.
I stood midsection of a single row of poplars, where the birds seemed especially abundant. There must have been a hundred or more warblers in this thin strip of trees. I pished softly, and the contact calls of the birds intensified in volume and urgency. In a moment a dozen warblers were gathered around me to see what the heck I was, making such an annoying sound.
I wandered across the rest of the fill. At the pond there were no shorebirds, but more ducks than I’d seen up to now, including a number of Green-winged Teal. A lone Horned Grebe swam in the center. The sparrows I flushed all looked to be Lincoln’s Sparrow, an uncommon bird I rarely encounter. Today they’re the most abundant sparrow here, making a rest stop here on their way southbound.
I adore this sensation of the world canted in orbit, the season tipping the birds from one hemisphere to another, and my being attentive enough to notice.
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