The day is still clear in my head, almost as clear as the song that lured me into the woods. Just thinking back to it makes my neck ache.

Wildlife watching was practically brand new to me, but my interest in the hobby was growing at an alarming rate — as it continues to do now. The most unusual and beautiful song was ringing out of the woods and I had to find the source.

 So I stepped off of the trail that ran along the treeline and made my way into the shade of the woods. 

Finding the approximate location of the source was easy; the crystal-clear song dominated the airwaves. The myriad of other sounds that nature makes each spring — tree frogs, yellowthroats, ear-hovering mosquitoes and the like — was merely background.

Once every couple of seconds an enchanting melody — like a master flutist rehearsing a bar of notes he long ago perfected — would reverberate through the woods.

I just couldn’t pinpoint the source. I had it narrowed down to the tree and even the approximate branch, but my binoculars could find nothing except brownish-gray bark and bright green new leaves.

Frustration was mounting. Neck pain was setting in.

But there was no way I was leaving the woods without finding what lured me in. I don’t back down from many challenges and this bird was clearly challenging me.

After what felt like hours — actually it was probably about 10 minutes — I became convinced that some jokesters had hid a tape recorder in the tree and were hiding somewhere in the woods getting a major kick out of the fool craning his neck looking for a dumb bird. “This is the best one yet,” I imagined them whispering to each other. “This dope just won’t give up.”

Finally my naked eyes spotted it. Usually, or so it seems, birds decide to take off the instant beginning birders reach for their binoculars. Thankfully, that didn’t happen this time.

I focused the binoculars and there was, of course, a wood thrush.

The attractive rusty-brown bird with a spotted breast was right there on the branch I had been scanning all along. Suddenly the bird’s location seemed obvious and I wondered why I couldn’t find it sooner. That’s one of the great mysteries of birding, I guess.

I stood and listened to the wood thrush for a moment longer. A lot of birds have distinctive, beautiful songs, but this was truly peerless as far as spring migrants go. I was amazed that such a crystal-clear, unique sound at such a dominating volume could come from a bird smaller than a robin. Pan would be proud of the wood thrush.

The wood thrush is my favorite of the thrush family, but for the most part, they’re all very similar. The hermit thrush is just a little duller and smaller than the wood thrush and has a unique, flute-like song of its own. In fact, the National Audubon Field Guide states: “To many, the song of the Hermit Thrush is the most beautiful of any North American bird.”

I still prefer the wood thrush.

Gray-cheecked and Swainson’s thrushes are also similar, but even more dull and less melodic. A thrush worthy of special mention is the veery. The veery is more cinnamon than brown and has a strange whirling song that reminds me of a space-themed video game.

Bluebirds and robins are members of the family, but vocally and visually they have deviated from the other thrushes.

Other “thrushes” you may come across are the ovenbird, northern waterthrush and Louisiana waterthrush. They may act like thrushes, look like thrushes and sound like thrushes, but they are actually warblers, not thrushes.

Since that first experience with the elusive wood thrush several years ago, I’ve progressed to the point where I can identify the thrushes by their songs and can usually find them pretty easily. Looking back it’s ironic that my neck ached so badly during the search because thrushes are usually found on the ground or relatively low in trees.

This year in fact the wood thrushes seem to be particularly plentiful and brave. On several occasions, including the one during which I took the accompanying photograph, I was able to walk right up to them.

Thrushes are fun because they are distinctive and offer birders of all levels a tough challenge. The rewards, however, are well worth the effort.

So if you’re a beginning birder and you hear an odd, flute-like sound coming from the woods, go check it out. If you don’t find the bird right away, don’t get discouraged and don’t give up.

Unless, of course, there are some tape recorder-wielding jokesters in your neighborhood.

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