For the Birds: Warbler distribution in New England is interesting

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Photo by Chris Bosak
A blackburnian warbler in Pittsburg, NH, summer 2026.

The birding action was relatively slow as we tromped along a skid trail used recently by loggers in the wilds of northern New Hampshire. 

It was mid-afternoon in July, so the lack of birds was not a surprise. Merlin, the app that identifies bird sounds, picked up the calls of a magnolia warbler and a golden-crowned kinglet, and we found both of them with little effort. 

Another bird, not detected by Merlin, flitted among the top of a spruce. Before lifting the binoculars, I would have guessed it was a magnolia warbler because I noted some yellow in the plumage, and magnolias had been plentiful the entire trip.

Through the binoculars, it was evident the bird in question was a blackburnian warbler. It lacked the brilliant fiery color of a breeding male, so it was either a female, first-year bird, or male transitioning to non-breeding plumage. Such is the challenge (and frustration) of summer and fall warbler identification.

Seeing these particular warblers got me thinking about the distribution of warblers throughout New England. It’s funny how, despite New England being thought of in many regards as one distinct region, how different the warbler distribution is depending on where exactly you are. I’m sure similar statements can be made for places like Texas or California. One part of Texas isn’t necessarily like other parts of the state.

The warblers I saw during my trip to northern New Hampshire had long left other parts of New England and are thought of as migrants to be seen only in spring or fall in those parts. Meanwhile, other warblers nest in the middle or southern parts of the region and never even make it up to the northern sections.

Yellow warblers and common yellowthroats are perhaps the most widespread and common warblers in New England, occurring throughout most of the region in spring and summer. Where I am in New England, American redstarts, blue-winged warblers, and black-and-white warblers are also common breeders and therefore seen in the summer months as well as during spring migration. It was a surprise to me when I first discovered pine warblers nesting high in an evergreen at my local park. 

During a late spring camping trip to Vermont many years ago, the “teacher, teacher, teacher” song of the ovenbird was the most ubiquitous sound in the surrounding woods. It was clear that the area was a breeding hot spot for the ground-dwelling warbler.

Many people tend to think of warblers as sought-after prizes to be found during spring migration. Indeed, they are the highlight of April and May birdwatching as they are colorful, active and singing incessantly during this time. Warblers, however, can also be fun to pursue in the summer, even though they are more scarce, secretive, quiet, and in many cases, not as colorful as they are in the spring. 

Which species you’ll find in the summer, however, depends on where you are in New England.

For the Birds: Loons and eagles highlight trip up north

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Photo by Chris Bosak
A common loon rests on a pond in northern New Hampshire, summer 2026.

It was a scene you might see in the opening frames of a movie.

The mist was thick coming off the water, and the sunrise peaking over the distant mountain painted the eastern sky a brilliant orange. Tall pines marked the edge of the pond, and a pair of loons silently floated on the mirror-like water.

Heather and I slowly paddled toward the loons but kept a respectable distance so as to not disturb their morning routine, which seemed to be not much more than sitting still on the water. Neither one of the loons made any of their iconic sounds, but the scene was still quintessential New England regardless.

As we paddled east toward the rising and slowly brightening sun, belted kingfishers on either side of the pond rattled simultaneously, creating a stereo effect among the din of birdsong that filled the morning air. Based on what we heard, common yellowthroats, Swainson’s thrushes, red-winged blackbirds and red-breasted nuthatches were the dominant songbirds hiding in the thick woods.

A bald eagle soared overhead and landed in a nearby snag, and a great blue heron stalked the northern shoreline. At the far end of the pond, dozens and dozens of tree swallows zipped around the surface of the water, feasting on mosquitoes and other flying insects.

Only one thing was missing from this early morning canoe ride in northern New Hampshire: moose. We tried the following morning and came up moose-less again.

This is a pond that used to be a moose hot spot. One July evening many years ago, I sat in the middle of the pond while three bull moose stood chest deep in the water eating nutrient-rich aquatic vegetation. I wouldn’t say that every canoe trip on the pond yielded a moose sighting, but very often it did.

Granted, I get up to northern New Hampshire only once or twice a year these days, but it has now been six years since I’ve seen a moose there. New Hampshire’s moose population, of course, has been drastically reduced due to winter tick infestations and other reasons. I’m often guilty of living in the past, hence my steadfast optimism for finding a moose as I make the northward trek.

Despite the fruitless moose searches, it was a great trip all around. Any trip that yields sightings of bald eagles and common loons is a success. In addition to those iconic birds, we saw ruffed grouse, magnolia warblers, Nashville warblers, black-throated green warblers, blue-headed vireos and many golden-crowned kinglets.

I’m also fairly certain I saw an American goshawk, but it flushed from a pine tree before I spotted it, offering only a brief glimpse as it flew off. It was a large, light-colored hawk, but I can’t say for sure what it was. As a side note, the American goshawk was known as the northern goshawk until 2023 when it was split from the goshawk that occurs in Eurasia.

The moose may have remained hidden, but the birds put on a show that more than made up for it. That’s the beauty of wildlife watching. Even when your target species doesn’t cooperate, there’s almost always something else waiting to steal the spotlight.

For the Birds: Rain or not, birds have to eat

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Photo by Chris Bosak
A soggy blue jay visits a feeder during a heavy rain in New England.

A major storm blew through New England the evening of the Fourth of July, but it was the weather event that happened two days later that caught my attention.

It was a work-from-home day, so I had a front-row seat to the feeders all day. I thought it was going to be a slow day as it rained heavily all day. And the action was slow, at first.

After a few hours of relentless teeming rain, the birds started coming again. Not surprisingly, the first birds to show up in the rain were cardinals. They are usually the first to show up in the morning and the last ones left as darkness settles in, so it was only fitting that they would appear first on this wet, soggy day.

The blue jays appeared not long after. Then the catbirds, then the chickadees and titmice. At this point, all of the birds appeared at the feeder looking like drowned rats. Remember, this wasn’t a gentle shower where the water would bead up nicely on the birds’ oily feathers and eventually roll away. This was a driving rain that soaked right through the layers of feathers.

So why were the birds out during this rain? Why not remain hunkered down until the rain passed? 

The answer, of course, is that they were hungry. Birds have a high metabolism and need to eat a lot to get through the hours and days. It is estimated that small songbirds eat between 25 and 35 percent of their body weight each day. The rain had been steady for hours and wasn’t going to let up anytime soon. 

Birds face many risk-reward dilemmas in their lifetimes. Migrate and face the inherent dangers of traveling great distances, or remain up north and risk freezing during the winter? Fight, flight, or hide when a predator is near?

In this case, the possibility of starving finally outweighed the potential pitfalls of venturing out in a heavy rain. Other than their ragged appearance, the birds did not appear stressed. It was business as usual.

I had taken down my covered feeder a while ago, so I had to venture out into that mess a few times to make sure there was enough dry seed available. I also included some mealworms and nuggets, as those would be good eating regardless. I was drenched as soon as I stepped off the porch each time I went out, but I figured the birds had it a lot tougher than I did, so I ventured out without hesitation. 

Besides, I’ve always rather enjoyed the occasional walk in the rain. I could always dry off and change clothes if need be. Birds don’t have that option.

The risk becomes greater for birds when it’s pouring and the temperatures are colder. When water can penetrate their oily outer feathers in cold temperatures, the possibility of hypothermia complicates the risk-reward scenario. 

The passing thunderstorms may have been more dramatic, but the steady downpour a few days later yielded the more interesting bird study. 

For the Birds: Veery takes lead in Bird of the Summer race

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Photo by Chris Bosak
A veery at Huntington State Park in Redding, CT, May 2026.

It’s still too early to declare my Bird of the Summer, but one bird has become the clear favorite.

Of course, catbirds and robins are always common sightings in the summer, and I have certainly seen many of those on my recent walks. But ever since early May, my walks seem to be dominated by veeries.

Veeries are thrushes and indeed closely resemble the more common hermit thrush and wood thrush. There are some obvious differences, however, as veeries are a warmer reddish-brown overall with fewer and lighter spots on their chests.

Some of the other thrushes that occur in New England are not as easy to differentiate from hermit thrushes, such as gray-cheeked thrush, Swainson’s thrush, and Bicknell’s thrush.

American robins and eastern bluebirds are also part of the thrush family but are not often thought of as thrushes, as they don’t look like the other thrushes. In fact the ovenbird, a small warbler, more closely resembles the thrush family than they do. Young robins and bluebirds, when they still have spotted chests, look more like typical thrushes than grown robins and bluebirds.

The veery has a very distinctive song. To me, it sounds like the old Space Invaders game from the 1980s. The Cornell Lab of Ornithology describes it as such: “A series of variations on ‘veer,’ the song descends slightly in pitch, and resonates as if swirling around inside a metal pipe.”

Whatever works for you, I guess.

Veeries also have call notes that are not as distinctive. I’ve heard it enough this spring and summer, however, that I can pick out their call notes among the cacophony of other nature sounds.

With all that said, let’s take a look at what else is going on throughout the region. 

Norma from Spofford, who is 90 years young, wrote that she saw a scarlet tanager sitting among her flowering quince bush the other week. The brilliantly colored bird gave Norma a good look for several minutes before flying off in the woods. Norma was thrilled by the sighting, as she says she has seen fewer than a dozen in all her years. The magic of New England’s birds.

Greg from Tilton wrote that he saw a red-bellied woodpecker at his feeder for the first time. Red-bellied woodpeckers continue to expand their range northward.

Victoria from Swanzey wrote in with an interesting report on her spring birdwatching. She had written in previously to let me know that she turns on Merlin (bird song and call recognition app), sets it on a rock, and “goes about her morning chores in the barnyard.” Her farm property is about 15 acres with varied habitat. She keeps track of the birds Merlin identifies on a spreadsheet. Knowing that Merlin is not 100 percent accurate, she only records birds that come up multiple times on the app.

In May alone, Merlin identified 116 different bird species. That, of course, does not include the birds that did not sing or call. The impressive list includes 26 types of warblers. “Until the Merlin app, I had not realized that the flashy ones — scarlet tanager, Baltimore oriole, indigo bunting — also make their nests here,” she wrote.

Gene from Plymouth regularly hosted at his feeder a downy woodpecker with an annoying habit of using its bill to flick away unwanted seeds to get the peanuts among the mixture, resulting in a boon for the squirrels below. The woodpecker could apparently see through the clear feeder to see where the peanuts were. Gene covered up the transparent parts of the feeder, and now the woodpecker appears to be much less picky.

I hope everyone survived the heat wave OK. Let me know if you observed any interesting bird or nature adaptations during those scorching days.

For the Birds: Male birds get defensive in the summer

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Photo by Chris Bosak
A rose-breasted grosbeak perches in a bush at Huntington State Park in Redding, Connecticut, summer 2026.

One of the main reasons why male birds are often more colorful than females was on full display during a recent bird walk.

As I noted in a recent column, summer is an ideal time for birdwatching and observing parent birds raising their young. Finding a nest is always exciting, but it isn’t necessary to confirm that birds are busy caring for youngsters nearby.

Father birds were particularly on edge during my recent walk. I got about halfway down the path when a male rose-breasted grosbeak darted across the trail in front of my face and landed in a nearby shrub. It was clearly agitated by my presence as it fluffed its feathers and chirped an alarm call.

I didn’t want to linger and fluster the bird even more, so I kept on my way.

Maybe 30 yards farther down the trail, a male American redstart did the same thing. It didn’t fly across the trail like the grosbeak, but it flew out of the woods and landed in a shrub on the edge of the trail. It also seemed agitated, so again, I kept on walking.

The obvious deduction is that the birds had nests with youngsters nearby, and my presence stirred their protective instincts. I can’t blame the birds. There are so many threats out there that they need to be on high alert at all times during the breeding season.

The other day, I saw an eastern kingbird aggressively chasing away a crow that was likely eyeing young kingbirds in a nest. Crows are notorious raiders of nests, but those ranks also include hawks, owls, and blue jays, as well as raccoons, squirrels, cats, and snakes. It’s a tough world for birds out there.

Fortunately, the majority of bird species in New England have males who actively participate in raising their young. Typically, the female stays on the nest while the male brings back food and watches for predators, but they reverse the roles at times as well.

That’s why in species that are sexually dimorphic (males and females look different), the male is almost always the more colorful and flashy one. In New England, this dimorphism is most notable in species such as cardinals, tanagers, grosbeaks, buntings, and many duck species. Other birds have more subtle differences and some have no differences at all. 

The brighter colors in males also play a role in attracting a mate and claiming (and protecting) territory. 

Males of species that have multiple broods each year, such as robins and bluebirds, are particularly busy. Males will continue to feed youngsters even after they have left the nest, while the female sits on new eggs. Of course, the males continue to protect the area as well.

Summer can be an exciting time for birdwatchers. For the birds themselves, it’s just another challenging time of year in their fight for survival.

Stunning owl drawing

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I met a talented young artist/illustrator recently, and, of course, this owl drawing stood out to me when he showed me some of his portfolio. He gave his blessing when I asked if I could post it on my website/blog.

Check out more of his work …

Aiden Bae

https://bashybae.my.canva.site/

https://www.instagram.com/bashybae?igsh=NHZzdzluOTU0YTcw

For the Birds: What’s up with the bald cardinal?

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Photo by Chris Bosak A Northern Cardinal drinks from a bird bath in New England, fall 2015.
Photo by Chris Bosak
A Northern Cardinal drinks from a bird bath in New England.

Here’s the latest. Let me know if you have any questions. Thanks, Chris

…

Photo by Chris Bosak

A molting male cardinal appears bald as it visits a feeder in New England.

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I’ve seen it dozens of times, but it’s always initially startling when I see a molting cardinal with a bald head.

My home office looks over the side yard where my birdfeeders are located. (No surprise there, I’m sure.) There are tall bushes on either side of the feeders, and most birds perch in one of those before venturing over to the feeders. 

Lately, the action has been predictably a bit slower as the birds are busy raising young. Throughout the day, however, the usual assortment of chickadees, titmice, nuthatches, song sparrows, blue jays, mourning doves, downy woodpeckers and cardinals pay visits. So far this summer, as a pleasant surprise, gray catbirds are my most common visitors as they come to eat mealworms and suet. They are also frequent visitors to the birdbath located a few dozen yards away. I never pinpointed it, but I know the catbirds have a nest in one of the nearby bushes.

The other day, a bright red streak flashed across the window and landed in the bush on the left. I knew it was a male cardinal, of course, but I wasn’t prepared for its appearance when it darted to the feeder perch. Like many I’ve seen before, this guy was bald as can be, his black exposed head giving him an ungainly appearance compared to how we are accustomed to seeing cardinals. It would look unappealing on any bird, but it looks even more out of place on a cardinal.

Like many birds, cardinals molt in the summer. They typically molt after the breeding season in August or September, so mid-June seemed early to see a bald cardinal. Some birds molt gradually and replace old feathers gradually over time. Cardinals, however, shed all of their head feathers at at about the same time, giving them an appearance only a mother could love. Not that the cardinals care one way or another what humans think of their appearance.

No need to fear, though. The new feathers start to grow almost immediately, and, within a few weeks, the cardinal is back to its resplendent self. 

Some cardinals lose their feathers due to mites instead of a molt, but it’s much less common. 

Summer is a time when many birds do not look like they do in field guides. Molting can change the appearance of adult birds. A bald cardinal is a stark example. Male wood ducks are another as they replace their brilliant breeding plumage with dull feathers. They are not often seen during this time as they lay low in the vegetation around swamps. They don’t hide because they are embarrassed by their drab appearance, of course, but rather because they cannot fly for a period of time during their molt and are in big trouble if a predator finds them.

Young birds look different from their parents for much of the summer as well. Sticking with cardinals, young birds (even males) look like female cardinals but have dark bills instead of the vibrant bills of adult female cardinals. I saw a young catbird the other day, and it already closely resembled an adult but had a more scruffy and thin appearance.

Birds, of course, are welcome sightings regardless of how they look on any particular day. A bald male cardinal or scraggly-looking catbird can visit my yard any day. 

Just a few bobolinks

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Photo by Chris Bosak
A male bobolink perches in a field in Brookfield, Connecticut, summer 2026.

Just a few bobolinks I met the other day on a walk.

Photo by Chris Bosak
A female bobolink perches in a field in Brookfield, Connecticut, summer 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
A bobolink perches in a field in Brookfield, Connecticut, summer 2026.

A few rose-breasted grosbeaks

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Photo by Chris Bosak
A rose-breasted grosbeak perches in a bush at Huntington State Park in Redding, Connecticut, summer 2026.

Here are a few male rose-breasted grosbeaks I met on a recent walk.

Photo by Chris Bosak
A rose-breasted grosbeak perches in a bush at Huntington State Park in Redding, Connecticut, summer 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
A rose-breasted grosbeak perches in a bush at Huntington State Park in Redding, Connecticut, summer 2026.

For the Birds: Yellow warbler no more; warbling vireo no more

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Photo by Chris Bosak
A warbling vireo sings from a perch in New England.

Last year I wrote about finding a house wren and not being able to find it on the eBird list only to discover that the name of the bird had been officially changed to northern house wren.

Well, this year, there were two more similar name changes. First, the yellow warbler is now the northern yellow warbler. I think most people will continue to call it yellow warbler for years to come, but the familiar, loquacious yellow bird that nests throughout New England is, indeed, now the northern yellow warbler. 

The reason for the change is to differentiate the migratory yellow warbler (the one we see in New England in spring and summer) from the non-migratory yellow warbler that is a year-round resident of the Caribbean, parts of Central and South America, and extreme southern Texas and Florida. That bird is now called the mangrove yellow warbler.

It seems to me they could have just added mangrove to the non-migratory bird’s name and left the more common yellow warbler’s name alone. But they did what they did, and we all have to get used to it.

By the way, “they” refers to the American Ornithological Society and other ornithologists and taxonomists. The name change has little to no impact on the casual birder. It has some significance for those who study birds for a living and those who keep fastidious life lists.

I discovered the other name change by accident. By now, most people are familiar with birding app Merlin. That’s the one that can, among many other things, identify nearby birds by their songs or calls. The “home page” of the app has a feature that randomly selects a local bird as your Bird of the Day. When you use the app and that bird is heard, it puts a little “Your Bird of the Day” message next to the entry.

Always one to welcome a new challenge, however inconsequential, I began a quest to find my Bird of the Day whenever I took a birdwalk. I don’t exactly knock myself out looking for the bird, but I get a small measure of satisfaction whenever the Bird of the Day message shows up on my list. 

One day in mid-May, warbling vireo came up as my Bird of the Day. This will be easy, I thought. By mid-May, warbling vireos are seemingly everywhere and easy to spot and even easier to hear. Sure enough, shortly into my walk that day, I heard a warbling vireo. I glanced down at the phone to discover there wasn’t a Bird of the Day message next to the warbling vireo that showed up on the list. 

I was confused for a few moments before realizing that Merlin identified the bird as an eastern warbler vireo, not simply warbling vireo even though “warbling vireo” was indeed my Bird of the Day. Apparently, they updated the name on the species-heard list but not as a Bird of the Day. If finding the Bird of the Day was a lucrative pursuit, I would have protested about getting cheated out of my bird that day. But it’s not, so I hardly gave it another thought — until now, that is.

So, yes, the bird New Englanders have been calling warbling vireo for so long is suddenly the eastern warbling vireo. Similar to the house wren and yellow warbler, the name change resulted from a split of a bird that formerly was considered the same species. The eastern warbling vireo breeds in the eastern and central parts of the U.S., while the western warbling vireo breeds out west. There is very little crossover range for the species. 

In the grand scheme of things, not much has changed. People will continue to call the northern house wren a house wren, the northern yellow warbler a yellow warbler and an eastern warbling vireo a warbling vireo. But, in case you ever come across a birder in the woods who is a stickler for names, now you know the new official names.