Last year around this time I wrote a post about the Gray Catbird’s fall migration from my property, entitled “Farewell, Gray Catbird.” And so I feel this year needs a revisit to the post now that another Gray Catbird exodus is upon me.
The 2019 spring bird migration brought with it a slightly different dynamic than did 2018. The places on my property they previously seemed to like the most were in direct correlation to the fact that I hadn’t had the opportunity to do some badly needed plant control and forest management. I purposely approached many of these areas with an easy hand this year, but it still seemed rather severe when I looked upon the freshly opened spaces in early spring. Would the same birds come back to the area? What about my beloved Gray Catbirds? Soon, time and its spring arrivals proved that all my worrying had been unnecessary. The Gray Catbirds arrived! And then they arrived some more. And then they had broods. And by July the entire property seemed to be filled with their flicking tails and noisy mews.
These birds are known to be “elusive” and “hard to spot”. My Gray Catbirds have definitely overcome their shy tendencies. Every morning this summer as I worked in my gardens around the house, a Catbird would fly out of the woods just to perch on a nearby tree and mew at me. As they grew more adamant in their noise making (and annoying), often I would remind them that they inhabit my property and life here was pretty good for them, so they just needed to relax. Using pragmatism didn’t avail to them much, so in the end, I told them they were just going to have to deal with my presence. They responded with the now broken record response of “mew” and provided me with a summer full of fun (and noisy) bird watching.
So here I am again. It’s mid-September and the inevitable is approaching. I’m remaining diligent about recording my bird sightings each day so I don’t miss it. It happens so quietly, like an exhale. One day it’s an unusually warm autumn afternoon and all of nature is around; the Phoebe is dancing in mid air for its catch, a few Hummingbirds zoom by, and I spot a Painted Lady fluttering among the Autumn Joy Sedum. Amid the activity I can always hear Catbird calling. Calling to me, I imagine, bidding farewell to another splendid year. It sure was a good one this year! I stand and listen and wait, and take everything in. The next morning brings the familiar low dark clouds of Wisconsin autumn, and as I walk through the edges of the forest, the mews have become silent. They are all gone now.
Farewell Gray Catbird, again farewell.