Date: 5/9/25 7:57 am From: Robert Ross <plumisl...> Subject: [MASSBIRD] Plum Island Aviary
Yesterday, on May 8, I had one of the most unique experiences in over forty years of birding. As I walked the boardwalk of the Hellcat Trail in the Parker River Wildlife Refuge at 6 PM, I saw a large flock of white-throated and swamp sparrows digging frantically under the leaf litter on both sides of the walkway. An initial count was 15-20 sparrows. I stopped to watch.
Then, above the sparrows, I saw movement. A black-and-white warbler was bouncing along a sapling trunk, stabbing at insects here, then there, then there. It was a female. Then, another, this one a male. A Third to my left. Two more, approximately three yards behind the first three. There would eventually be eight total, five males and three females.
Spotting one of the new benches now placed along the trail. I sat and tried to remain still. For the next hour, I was treated to a display we as birders hope for but rarely experience. A total of ten warbler species, three Baltimore orioles, two blue-headed vireos, a blue jay, two mourning doves, gold-, house, and purple finches, black capped chickadees, two downy woodpeckers, a northern flicker, both golden-crowned and ruby-crowned kinglets, a brown creeper, both male and female northern towhees, gull and egrets and a great blue heron flyover, a northern house wren, two hermit thrushes, and with Merlin picking up an oystercatcher, a persistent piping plover call, marsh wrens, countless red-winged blackbirds, yellowlegs, and willets from behind me, all occurring within about a 10-15-yard wide circumference around me, up through the canopy. Mostly, the area was open as there were only sparse saplings and a few small bushes, nearly all still bare of leaves.
It was like a confined aviary at a zoological park. There were too many birds to spy through binoculars; as soon as I raised mine to watch or ID a species, another flew in right above or below it. Warblers came through and moved on. By zone, the species included a Nashville, several black-throated greens, and a Blackburnian high, a chestnut-sided, black-throated blue, and yellow at head high and slightly above, American redstarts, black- and-whites, and common yellowthroats lower and to just above ground, and an ovenbird on the forest floor. For many species, both male and female appeared.
I have often walked by this spot, a short distance north of the marsh spur, and would not consider it among the hot spots along the trail. There are no oaks, pines, or cedars. It is mostly birch, ash, and elm. The canopy offers only a few taller trees along the perimeter of my viewing area. The trees along the trail are not high, and the marsh is roughly twenty yards behind the bench.
I concluded the loud thrashing of the sparrows indicated a safe space, and as more and more flew in, the excited chirps and calls attracted more birds. I doubt there were more grubs or bugs in this relatively small piece of the Refuge than in any other, but I left it up to the birds to know.
Some species were curious at the commotion, as the blue-headed vireos moved through quickly, for example, but others stayed for ten minutes or more. The black-and-whites continued their happy foraging, not three feet from me, stopping briefly to look at me and verify I was not a danger. I could hear and see sparrows at my feet and 2-3 yards deep along both sides. The towhees came and went, coming near, as if every ten minutes they had forgotten checking me out earlier.
Then, as suddenly as it started, it ended as the sun sank. As dusk settled in, I witnessed another sight I had not seen before. In an instant, all the sparrows were gone. I saw about ten fly into the branches of a single sampling, about 15 feet above ground, while others jostled for a spot. The warblers and all the other species disappeared. The black-and-whites, the most active warblers, vanished. It was not possible to follow them. It was as if all the birds sank into another dimension.
I wondered if a coyote was nearby. More likely, the birds instinctively knew the forest floor was not safe at night, and others flew off to find a haven among the brush and canopy. It was, though, impressive how there were 10-15 species right in front of me, and in the next instance, none. All motion ceased, the woods were silent, and it was time to head out, as I had stayed well into dusk, when the Refuge closes.
I have had the joy of standing in the midst of a migration fallout, when suddenly empty bushes and trees around me are filled with birds. I do not think this was a fallout. It appeared to me, the more birds that came in, the more followed. I believe most, if not all, of these birds were already near. It was the excitement of the others, and as it grew and grew, more came to see what was happening.
Many unique experiences await this time of year. The great advantage to birders on the PRWR is that the space is confined. It is much different than forest birding or even birding the marsh. The birds have only so much space. As many know, this time of year, they flock in and hold for days until moving further north. Amid one such large flock of birds, with such a wide variety of species, events like I witnessed are rare, at least in my experience.
Then, to watch them all suddenly vanish as the sparrows flew up was as impressive as watching them appear. A key is to be patient. When I first sat down, I had mostly sparrows and black-and-white warblers around me. Over time, as Plum Island is famous for, as a flyway and hold for migration, some birds move through quickly, while others hang on a bit longer or all summer. Sightings like mine are possible, and one of the exciting experiences for birders on Plum Island.
