There are some notable advantages to being a relatively novice birder, one being that life birds can come in waves. Last week I got seven lifers, and some mighty good ones in my estimation:
I got them by exploring areas that hadn't been my typical birding terrain. Michigan State's Corey Marsh Ecological Research Center in Clinton County yielded the swamp sparrow, the sora, and the rail. A tiny wetland area situated within the cornfields of MSU's campus gave me the pheasant, the Savannah sparrow, and the snipe.
Indeed all but one of these lifers were seen or heard in or around tall grasses and cattails and amid the squeaking, whistling, croaking cacophony of red-winged blackbirds and sandhill cranes.
The lone exception was the sleeping owl, whose silhouette I spotted against a gray morning sky in Scott Woods in Lansing and who afforded me as long a look as I wanted:
Of course a wealth of birds brings a wealth of highlights:
The noisy, annoyed takeoff of the pheasant hen.
The Wilson's snipe's magnificent beak.
The Virginia rail's laugh-like call as the boys and I walked by.
The call and answer of a half dozen swamp sparrows, two of whom emerged from the dense grass, and one of whom I managed to capture ineptly before it ducked back into hiding:
Speaking of sparrows, I think I found a new sparrow favorite in the Savannah and its buzzy three-part song:
The highlightiest of highlights had to be at Corey Marsh, when out of nowhere a sora belted its descending song (which reminds me vaguely of the Price is Right wheel) not 10 feet away as I was training my binoculars on a pair of green-winged teals. I waited a good 20 minutes in the hope of hearing it again or even possibly seeing the elusive marsh-dweller, but neither the bird nor its song was forthcoming. I'll be back in the hope of catching a glimpse of a it and a Virginia rail, and also adding American woodcock to my list.
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