I've been neglecting this blog because I've been at Bird Camp. That's what a friend calls the month of May. She's here Wednesday morning through Sunday night, or maybe early Monday morning, depending on the action. Campers can set their own schedules. The camp cabin sleeps seven or eight or nine adults, depending on relationships, and one more if someone like Bill wants to sleep on the porch floor. You can hear owls and Whip-poor-wills much better out there. Our hostess is an excellent birder and a person of enormous stamina. Her husband mostly does camp chores and reads. The rest of us are up at five a.m. and home to heat up supper by six or so, then often back out for another swing around the township. Birds are hard to find here (northwestern Wisconsin) this year. The only species we can count on are nesters. Migrants haven't arrived yet, blew through without being seen or heard, or aren't coming. Our daily picnic of do-it-yourself sandwiches has become an unaccustomary highlight. This morning, for instance, is windless and sunny, and silent but for the Brown Thrashers and Gray Catbirds, neither of which ever shutup. There also is a drumming grouse that I'm not sneaky enough to find. I have enjoyed Scarlet Tanagers this year. They're either plentiful or I've finally learned to recognize their song (robin with a soar throat is what they sound like). We're leaving this morning, with return this season unlikely. Someone in my family has booked two or three awkwardly scheduled social events. That should be against Bird Camp rules. Here's a photo of one of the cooperative tanagers.
