they were always here

We’ve lived in this place in the forest for 32 years. We never saw a Wilson’s warbler long enough to identify it until last year when we found a stunned female Wilson’s warbler in the road.

I held her until she recovered, and, in return, she and her mate decided to build a nest in our oak tree where they raised their young. The male regularly perched on the roof of our house to sing. A lovely thanks for rescuing his mate, but I fear they lost many chicks to the local sharp-shinned hawk.

Forests have levels. We humans are usually bound to clearings in the lowest level of the forest, and so we miss much of the action in the upper levels, as well as the behind-the-scenes action in the thickets.

So the warblers have always been here. I’ve heard them often, but had never seen them in action until last summer. They live in the thickets, blending in well despite their bright yellow coloration. They dart from place to place so fast the eye can’t settle on them.

This year, I’m taking my tea breaks outside different corner of the house.

I take my morning break on the deck along the south wall of the house, overlooking the creek. The deck is about 12′ off the ground, which slopes quickly towards the creek. From the deck, I get a view into the 20′ area of the forest, with a glimpse into the deciduous canopy 30′-50′ above the forest floor. The conifer canopy is a good 50′ higher still, distant from my perch.

The noon break is on the front steps at the northwestern corner of the house overlooking the middle branches of a medium-sized maple tree and a row of non-native shrubs, oak, madrone, and blackberry thicket separating our property from the neighbor’s. I hear rustling and calling and see trails of disturbed leaves. Occasionally, I see the birds themselves darting about.

I started a game of “find the Wilson’s warblers in  the brush.” I follow the calls and the rustling and try to catch one holding still. A fumble with binoculars and I might verify the sighting. Or I might see something unexpected. A chestnut-capped chickadee. A small flock of bushtits. Other birds who have thus far flown under my radar.

It astonishes me, a person who is always trying to pay attention, to learn, how many things escape my notice. No matter how much I learn, my ignorance dwarfs my knowledge.