In the south meadow, a bird is making a cacophony of sounds. Its repertoire of vocalizations is a mishmash of whistles, hiccups, zings, whirling toots, clacks, and squawks bustling with merriment. It sounds like a mini carnival has rolled into town.
Meet the yellow-breasted chat. I say “meet” if you are lucky enough to see it. It mostly stays tucked away in the underbrush as it sings away right in front of you. Lately, it has been hanging out in an island of vegetation consisting of an ash tree, a thicket of blackberries, a cluster of willows, and dense snowberry shrubbery.
I am considering setting up a booth in front of its little haven and calling it Find the Birdie. I’ll wear a bright yellow suit with a dapper top hat. Step right up folks and find the birdie. Zip-zurple Toot. He’s in there somewhere. Burp Whirdle Peep. He could be down low in the willow. Pop Crackle Gulp. Or maybe a little higher up in the canopy of the ash. Caw Chortle Cluck. Try your luck. It’s only a buck!
Luckily, I caught a glimpse of it as it briefly popped into the open and as if to take a bow in recognition of its vocal performance. It’s a beautiful bird, and it was well worth the time and effort to see it. I hope you are enjoying the spring. Happy Birding!