I had to laugh when I heard it. A Carolina wren, perched on the edge of the woods on the opposite side of the park, belted out its hearty song. I knew exactly what it was from the instant I heard it.
It wasn’t always that way, though. I remembered the first time I had heard a Carolina wren and got a good internal chuckle at my own expense.
I was wandering around the woods several years ago in Tarrytown, N.Y. Suddenly I heard the loudest and most distinct bird song I had ever heard. It was close, too. It couldn’t have been more than a few yards away, or so I thought at the time. I stopped short, figured I’d find and ID the songster quickly, and move on.
Well, it didn’t work out that way. Trouble was, I couldn’t find the bird. It was singing loudly right in front of me. It had to be. The song was loud, clear and distinctive. How hard could this be? My frustration grew as I searched in vain for a bird that should have been easy to find.
I never found it. But I remembered that song. It stayed in my brain and pestered me for a good, long time.
Looking back, I think I was searching for a bird to match the song — it had to be a big, colorful bird, right? What else could make such a wonderfully loud and melodic sound?
The Carolina wren is a small, brown bird slowly extending its territory northward. It was probably right in front of me and I missed it.
At some point I came across another Carolina wren singing its proud song. Apparently an older and wiser birdwatcher by this time, I located the source of the song and nailed down an identification. “Ah ha. I got you this time,” I must have said to myself.
Matching human words to bird songs is sometimes helpful. I can understand and utilize the “Drink your tea!” of the towhee and the “Old Sam Peabody, Peabody, Peabody” of the white-throated sparrow. Often times, however, trying to match what you read in a field guide to what you hear in the field is a lesson in futility.
The Carolina wren, according to most bird guides, says “teakettle, teakettle, teakettle.” Knowing the song now, the association works for me. One field guide claims the song is “liberty, liberty, liberty, whew.” That one doesn’t quite work for me.
To me anyway, the Carolina wren sounds like, “wheateater, wheateater, wheateater, wheat.” Using that association, because it’s personal to me, I can pick out a Carolina wren from hundreds of yards away in an instant.
The trick is, apparently, to find something that works for you. The field guides offer helpful tips and word associations that have worked for many people for many years, but if something else works better for you, by all means use your own association.
And, as always, the best way to truly learn bird songs — or anything about nature — is to experience it yourself. Field guides and birding-by-ear guides are great, but there’s nothing like heading out into the woods or sitting on your patio and soaking in what nature has to offer.
Spring, of course, is a perfect time to immerse yourself in bird song. The songsters in my yard start at 5:28 a.m. Yes, a very eager American robin has been my alarm clock for the past several days. The early bird not only gets the worm, but also wakes up the neighborhood.
On Friday, before heading out to work, I heard the song I’ve been waiting to hear. I walked out the door and heard the trill of a pine warbler. It’s not that spectacular of a song, but it marks for me the beginning of the spring warbler season. Pine warblers are one of the early migrants and for the past three years at least one has visited my yard. This year (April 18) was the latest they have arrived.
Better late than never, as the saying goes. Welcome to spring migration.

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