I was waiting for the flurry of activity that generally highlights a May walk in the woods but it just wasn’t happening.
The walk was pretty quiet for the most part. A yellow warbler here and there, a few song sparrows, and the distant songs of orioles and cardinals. It was a pleasant enough experience, but as a birdwatcher, I expected more from a mid-May ramble.
This is the time of year when birdwatchers flock to the woods to see the huge variety of migrating birds working their way through our region. The songbird migration is a fleeting moment in time and to have a walk not yield a magnitude of birds is disappointing, despite the mental and physical health benefits of being outdoors.
Often spring walks that get off to a slow start pick up fast and furious. After walking for an hour you suddenly happen upon a spot were dozens of birds are gathered. Two warblers in one tree, two more in an adjacent tree, a few other songbirds in a nearby bush ...
Then,  gradually, the flurry dies down and that spot becomes as quiet as the rest of the walk had been.
But on this particular walk, the flurry wasn’t coming, probably because I was waiting for it — even expecting it. As I entered the homestretch toward my car, I finally resigned myself to the fact that it was a slow bird walk on a pleasant May morning.
The expectation finally out of my mind, the flurry came. It wasn’t exactly an explosion of activity, but it was certainly noteworthy — and welcomed. It started with the sound of an oriole above my head. I had been hearing orioles in the distance all day, but this was first close call. I slowly backed up on the trail — you know it’s a good birding moment when you’re walking backward instead of progressing forward — and immediately spotted a female oriole.
Female orioles are much duller than the brilliant orange males. I was actually happy it was a female, though. I see male orioles frequently and females only on occasion, so I was glad to get a good, close look at a female.
Suddenly a male oriole popped out of the top of the tree and flew to a larger tree in the distance. It was a quick glance, but enough so that I could take in the dazzling color.
Then I noticed yet another oriole in a nearby tree. This one was being quiet, which is why I hadn’t noticed it before. This was neither brilliant orange or dull orange. It more of a burnt orange. The bird was an orchard oriole. I closed in for a photo, but the bird outsmarted me by jumping around the branches close the trunk, therefore not affording a good clear shot. This makes two years in a row that orchard orioles have pulled that stunt on me. I’ll get them one of these days.
Yellow warblers sang from the tree tops high above me and a yellowthroat flitted among the low brush right in front of me. An ornery Carolina wren suddenly flew wildly across the scene chasing a sparrow of some sort out of its territory. A hummingbird then zipped across in front of me three times as fast as the wren.
Finally, a vireo landed in a branch not far from where I stood. I looked at it for a while and couldn’t determine which kind of vireo it was. Then it flew away and my chance to nail down a positive ID disappeared with it. I never did master the vireos, which are smallish birds colored mostly in dull yellows, browns and grays. There are about seven varieties that live in or pass through New England.
I don’t mind having a few blindspots in my birdwatching skills. The day I know everything is the day I’ll lose interest.

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