In early fall, you can drive to the best bird migration hot spot, the prettiest prairies and the cooling woods, as leaves take on new hues.
Or you can stay in your yard and let nature come to you.
That’s what my husband, Steve Bailey, and I did on a recent, sunny, 70-degree autumn day. We sat on chairs in our driveway, sipped coffee and watched the birds, mammals and insects in our yard.
We observed bay-breasted warblers, magnolia warblers and Cape May warblers flitting among the needles of tall Norway spruces, peering beneath the leaves of black walnut trees seeking insects and hiding in native shrubs such as hazelnut and witch hazel.
We craned our necks to tree tops, picking out the 4- to-5-inch-long insect-eaters and deciphering their identities.
Different bird species come to our yard because we have established a layer of mostly native tall, medium and short trees, shrubs and wildflowers that attract different insects and, in turn, the birds.
It was a neighbor who found the most exquisite bird that visited us in our yard. He asked what we were looking at. We told him about the tiny birds called warblers. He pointed to one in our catalpa tree. “Is that one?” he asked.
Indeed it was. In fact, it was my favorite bird — a black-throated blue warbler. I had never seen it in my yard before, despite keeping a tally of species seen for more than four decades.
It’s not an easy bird to find in our region, since we’re located at the northwestern edge of its migratory pathway. Each spring and fall, up to 30 or more warbler species migrate through the region, with the yellow-rumped warbler being the most numerous. Black-throated blue warblers are much more rare.
You have to see this bird to believe it’s real. It has a deep blue head and back contrasting with black neck and throat, a white belly, and subtle green on its back. Its black-striped blue wings are set off by a small, white square. Not all songbirds maintain their colorful spring plumages during fall migration, but the black-throated blue does. While other warbler species cavort in small flocks feeding and chasing one another, the black-throated blue tends to remain more solitary and in the lower part of the tree’s canopy, in shrubs and even on the ground.
The black-throated blue warbler passes through in spring on its way to breeding grounds in the Appalachian Mountains, New England and southeastern Canada.
On its way back south in fall, it often hangs around the Chicago region through October. It’s even been seen once in downtown Chicago in winter.
Seeing the black-throated blue for a fleeting moment was only the beginning of our “staying in place” nature-watching adventure.
We also heard the loud “kerplunk” of a black walnut dropping from a tree, from a squirrel gnawing to cut the petiole or tiny stem upon which three walnuts are connected, to make it fall to the ground. A black saddlebags dragonfly flew over, followed by a green darner dragonfly, part of a contingent of thousand to millions of dragonflies that fly from as far north as Canada south to Mexico.
Later, a red fox ran from our backyard, passing by fewer than 10 feet away from us in the front yard and continuing down the road. The color of its fur reminded me of the color of red maple tree leaves turn in autumn. A large native bumblebee ensconced itself into a rose of Sharon bloom, one of the last left in the season.
The black-throated blue warbler returned right after to put on a show for at least an hour. He landed on the Douglas fir, redbud, rose of Sharon, pine needles on the ground beneath the Norway spruce and a hydrangea, seeking only one thing — sustenance.
While watching him move his head from side to side, peering beneath leaves for insects, spiders and caterpillars, I felt a little sad.
Insect numbers are declining worldwide, as are the number of birds.
Finally, I saw the warbler snatch a large, white moth in a shrub. Then he dropped to the leaf litter where he jostled it in his bill for a while, until he was able to get it down his tiny throat.
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I could have easily driven to Chicago’s Montrose Harbor, where birders usually get many more than one black-throated blue warbler there every fall and spring. Montrose is the best migratory hot spot for birds in the region, and even the Midwest.
But choosing to remain in one place, and not use gas to drive all over seeking out migrants, yielded a great result. The black-throated blue warbler remained with us for four days, affording great views and great joy. We heard it give soft single notes and more strident single notes. It reserves its buzzy, “I am so lazy” song for spring.
Soon the warbler will be off to its wintering grounds in Jamaica, Puerto Rico, Hispaniola, Cuba and other Caribbean islands. We will remain in our yards waiting for more nature to appear — perhaps another fox, a late migrating yellow-rumped warbler and the return of the juncos that flit in our yard all winter.