The Birds Are Back

And with them, a plea to protect

June 16, 2018

Since roughly May 1, the migration and breeding season of birds has been in full swing in our corner of the world. Quite simply, it would be impossible to overstate the beauty and sublimity of this period when the region’s birds are been more visible, active, and abundant than almost any other time of year. Our enjoyment of this phenomenon, however, is limited by our finite capabilities: We just cannot grasp all that is going on. If we could, our heads might explode.

For these short 45 or so days, our skies have been filled with millions, perhaps billions, of birds. They filtered through our forests, beaches, shorelines, parks, meadows, and towns, arriving from every corner of the western hemisphere. Most departed from the southern United States, Central America, and the northern portion of South America. A few came from even farther away, and, some have even traveled from the eastern hemisphere, blown off course by storms.

One example of this endurance is the upland sandpiper. This chicken-sized bird with the long thin neck and large dark eyes journeys from the pampas of Argentina to nest in the vivid green grasslands that punctuate the acreage of Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. Some members of this breed travel even farther north, to the provinces of Canada.

The Arctic tern, a white, elegant bird that is grace personified, travels from extreme southern South America to extreme northern North America, perhaps passing through our region for an hour or two, a day, or slightly longer. This world traveler logs an estimated 60,000 miles a year and, because it follows the sun, sees more sunlight in a year than any other creature on earth. More often than not, remarkable migrants like this pass, literally, right over our heads, unnoticed, as we go about our busy lives.

If you haven’t looked up lately, do. Approximately 320 bird species breed in Michigan, and about 175 breed in our area: Grand Traverse, Leelanau, Benzie, Charlevoix, and Antrim counties. Of these, about 150 are migrants, meaning they spend their winters elsewhere, where it is warmer and food more abundant. There are roughly another 150 species that only pass through, some as elusive as shooting stars, that we might see if we are lucky and diligent.

There is, of course, a fall migration, but for me this recent migration is the better of the two. Into the mating season of June, the breeding plumage of the birds is bright, vivid, and fresh. The colors pop out. The beauty is spellbinding. Best of all, the warming weather moves the birds to sing as spring rolls into summer, making them easier to find and identify. (Birdsong adds a whole new dimension of delights. Recently, one clear morning I listened for 45 minutes to the versatile calls of a brown thrasher. This blue jay-sized bird with a long tail boasts a repertoire of over 2,000 songs and calls, making it among the most complex of singers in the world.)

One final thing: warblers. For birders, an old quote says, the coming of warblers is akin to the presence of catnip to a cat. Warblers are tiny birds that fly hundreds and thousands of miles each spring (and fall). In most cases, they are as small as an apricot and weigh less than your average walnut.  Each one is a work of art, painted with bold splashes of reds, greens, yellows, and blues.    

The chestnut-sided warbler is a tiny explosion of color, with a lemon-yellow cap, chestnut sides, and a white breast highlighted with black lines. The black and white warbler is a chiaroscuro of dark and light. If you get a good look at the black-throated green warbler, which usually sings up high in the treetops, you will see a bold black throat set off by a unique and vibrant green.  And so on.

If you are not a birder, and you see some of these specimens by serendipity, you might blink your eyes and shake your head, doubting what you have seen.

Here in northern Michigan, we live in a sweet spot for warblers. A greater variety passes through our forests and fields than just about anywhere in the world. The season for migrating warblers is brief, lasting a few days to a couple of weeks at most. The migrants are ephemeral, often here and gone in the blink of an eye. If you capture one in your binoculars at the just the right light, you feel as though you have done at least one thing right in your life.

The good news is that we have dozens of species of warblers that remain during the summer, nesting, singing and going about their inscrutable lives right under our noses.

The lessons of birding are simple enough and prove a great way to welcome summer: Get out in nature as often as you can. Pay attention. And protect what you can, for it is as fragile as it is beautiful and can be destroyed.

Kevin Breen is a writer and avid birder who retired to northern Michigan from Grand Rapids last year. He believes the diversity, quality of habitat — mature forests, secluded Lake Michigan shorelines and islands, quality grasslands — and the sheer beauty of the landscapes make this region a kind of heaven for birders.