Texas Hill Country Birding
The cool breeze and the rustle of leaves is a bit of heaven. A peaceful walk and bird song should be enough. In frustration I realize that all those birds I hear are staying hidden behind leaves.
Hikers stroll by with their water bottles, enjoying the path, the woods and the solitude. I sit on a bench resting, encumbered with my six pounds of 400 mm lens and Canon camera, the National Geographic Bird Guide, and Leica binoculars. Besides the requisite water bottle, I have a bag of nuts, in case I get hungry or see some critter to toss a nibble towards.
Rod and I had come to Bourne, Texas to visit his brothers. I took off for a day of solitary birding, convinced I could capture many stunning pictures of birds in the Texas Hill Country. I listen to songs of at least a dozen species, but see nary a feather. I try a little phishing – the sound that frustrated birders make which is a cross between a whistle and a whisper. I’ve heard tell that sometimes that will occasion a fly-by or draw a bird into the open. I’ve also been told it will as likely chase your target into the next county.
By 7:00 a.m. the mist drifts gently away through the cacophony of song. Dawn has broken and birds are proclaiming the day. I should have learned to identify songs long ago. But as I stop admonishing myself I realize that even if I could name the birds by sound, I long to observe the flit of wings, the splash of yellow or blue, the bright beady black eyes hunting for an insect.
By 10:00 a.m. this tired great-grandma turns to go back to the trailhead. Boot sounds on the gravel echo in the now eerily silent woods.
Consolation prize for me is a black-crested titmouse on the Lost Maples State Park bird-feeder as I approach the trailhead.