It’s the end of June, which means fledging time for many birds’ second broods. The nesting season is already drawing to a close, it seems. Walking through the woods and fields is a game of hot and cold, with parent birds becoming increasingly more agitated as I wander by their hidden young.
I was about to step onto the caboose trail at my usual entry point before coming face to face with a little bob-tailed Robin sitting low in a bush. I backed off quickly enough to receive only a mild scolding from the adults. Further along, a young Oriole flushed from the lilacs. The little fellow made it up high into a nearby maple, safe and sound, but the mother continued to shout expletives at me until I departed.
A Savannah Sparrow sang his soft tune of sweet, sweet lazy breee-zeeey and chipped a warning in response to the zeep of his nearby young. Less subtle was the male Bobolink, who leapt up from the fencerow with a forceful, percussive cry like the strike of a tambourine. Two females followed for backup, though they soon lost interest and left to tend to the nearby young. The male continued to leap from branch to branch, tree to tree, flicking and chattering, before abruptly ending the whole performance and winging off into the fields.


