Same But Different

By Keith Michael

When I was a kid, and I’m talking about when I was six, we had a small pile of ragged nature books on an upstairs shelf, including Roger Tory Peterson’s A Field Guide to the Birds. I loved just saying his name, “Roger Tory Peterson. Roger Tory Peterson. Roger Tory Peterson.” The front inside cover ‘Roadside Silhouettes’ illustration, and the back inside cover ‘Flight Silhouettes’ illustration, and page after page of color plates featured what seemed like fantastical birds as though they’d been imagined by Dr. Seuss, and the pink, blue, and purple Range Maps crammed in at the back—yes, I had too many favorite things even then—my favorite of all favorite pages were the two plates of ‘Confusing Fall Warblers, etc.’

I don’t know whether or not Roger Tory Peterson coined that beguiling phrase ‘Confusing Fall Warblers’ but it was certainly beguiling to me. I could look at those two pages for hours and hours, day after day, spring and fall, quizzing myself on the differences between all of those olive, gray, yellow, black, and white birds. Later, as I learned to read, putting names to those mysteriously similar birds was an added challenge. There was something hypnotic about paging back and forth to the illustrations of those same warblers in their spring colors for comparison. Twenty-seven different bird species were regimented on those two pages all facing to the left. Helpful black arrows indicated subtleties of identification to pay attention to. As a child, I thought about what their right sides might look like.

Frankly, I think that I was so mesmerized because it was difficult for me to hold all of the differences between the birds in my head. Opening the book each time could feel like the first time. It was an endless game. Fast forward a bunch of decades. It’s fall once again, and damnit, those warblers are still confusing.

Yes, after years of practice, I’m better at it. However, most of the time, I’m more comfortable saying, “I don’t know what that one was. It might have been a…” The breakthrough genius of the Peterson guide, first published in 1934, was that it simplified each bird into an “ur-bird” of its species, pointing out its defining visual details. Now, having endless libraries of photographs to scroll through, videos, sound ID apps, bird ID apps, guides with photos and pristine drawings from every angle, 3-D visualizations, better binoculars, more and better birders—all of that information sometimes boils down to the fact that fall warblers are STILL confusing! Damnit.

Birds in real life don’t always face to the left and they’re rarely six feet away at eye level. They certainly don’t stay in one place so that you can study them while snuggled on your couch sipping a chilled glass of rosé. Nope. Birds are busy. When we see warblers en route on their fall migration, possibly, they have flown hundreds of miles overnight to be seen in our parks and our street trees. They’re small, they’re fast, and they’re hungry. Warblers average five inches long and they weigh less than half an ounce. If you’ve had the somber encounter of picking up a lifeless warbler on the sidewalk from a window strike, again and again, it’s shocking how weightless they feel. But when they’re in business, their business is eating as many bugs, caterpillars, and tiny critters as they can to pack on the grams for their next hundreds and thousands of non-stop miles.

Over the years, I’ve seen 19 species of Warblers in the West Village. Not surprisingly, I’ve primarily identified them in the spring when their flashier nuptial plumage is easier to differentiate. After a summer rushing around building a “vacation home,” raising the kids, catching enough bugs, caterpillars and tiny critters to feed a family, weathering summer storms and heat waves, not to mention protecting the clan from marauding predators, as well as the aforementioned already flying hundreds or thousands of miles to get here, some of these bundles of feathers can look a little frazzled. Though not TOO frazzled, because all of their feathers still need to work. Different birds have different strategies for when in their hectic year to replace their feathers. They can’t do it all at once for a new look like getting a haircut. They can’t just order them with a few scrolls and clicks. They have to grow them.

One of my favorite (among many favorite) fall birds to see is the Palm Warbler. In the spring, this jaunty fellow sports a tidy rust-colored cap, fancy yellow eye-liner, and a stripey yellow and orange chest. In the fall, all of that is still there, but dialed way down, so it’s helpful to have seen his spring fashion line to recognize how his style has evolved for the fall runway. For a warbler, the Palm Warbler is also tremendously satisfying because you can often watch their bug-catching expertise right out in the middle of a lawn rather than having to turn oneself upside-down to look for its perambulations hustling the tops of trees. You also don’t even really need to look for their feather coloring but watch for a bird’s rhythmic pumping of its tail. If it’s on the ground and constantly bobbing its tail, it’s likely a Palm Warbler. No, you don’t have to look for a palm tree, though apparently, they like palm trees during their winter in the Caribbean. And, you know what? You don’t even need to put a name to each bird that you see to be dazzled by the lives that they lead.

After studying my Peterson’s one more time, I’m heading out once again in hopes of identifying one more confusing fall warbler.