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.
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.
Photo by Chris Bosak A female Baltimore oriole brings material back to her nesting site this spring.
On my way to visit my family in Pennsylvania, I decided to stop at the Bashakill Wildlife Management Area in Sullivan County, New York, to see what birds might be in and around the giant marsh.
I used to canoe there frequently when I lived closer to that spot, but I hadn’t been there in many years. I didn’t have my canoe with me this time, but luckily there is a trail that follows the edge of the water and offers many expansive views.
As a bonus, the trail is wooded, so you get the shallow water on one side and the woods on the other. The Bashakill has a navigable channel winding through the middle, but the surrounding area is shallow water with thick aquatic vegetation where wood ducks and other birds find refuge.
Photo by Chris Bosak Yellow warbler at Huntington State Park, Redding, CT, May 2026.
Spring migration continues to work its magic.
My walks have been filled with migrants, including a few FOYs (first of years) each time I go out. On one recent walk, I saw a veery, red-eyed vireo, and American redstart, all firsts of the year. It’s always nice to see birds for the first time since last spring, summer or fall.
The feeling is a little different for birds that we know are just passing through and won’t nest here. Of course, it’s always nice to see the first rose-breasted grosbeak, scarlet tanager, Baltimore oriole or ruby-throated hummingbird, but we know they will nest locally, and we will have plenty more chances to see them over the next several months.
Some birds, however, especially select warblers, will not nest locally, so if we miss them during their short window of passing through New England, we have to wait until fall to try to catch a glimpse of them as they pass through during their southern flight. If we miss that opportunity, our next chance will be the following spring.
Photo by Chris Bosak Blue-gray gnatcatcher at Huntington State Park, Redding, Conn., April 24, 2026.
For many birdwatchers, this is the best time of year. Breeding season has begun in earnest, and the spring migration is in full swing.
Every walk in late April and early to mid-May has the potential to yield something that wasn’t there the day before. The other day, I took a quick walk and spotted my year’s first wood thrush, blue-gray gnatcatcher, blue-winged warbler and black-and-white warbler.
It’s also a busy time for my email inbox, as spring’s increased activity brings many exciting bird observations and raises some questions too.
Nancy from Keene shared that a pileated woodpecker made holes from top to bottom on a snag (dead tree) in her yard. She mentioned that she hears the large woodpeckers every year, but this was the first time she was able to get a video with her phone. Now, the moment has documentation that she can enjoy at any time.
Photo by Chris Bosak The eastern towhee used to be called chewink.
Many months ago, or maybe it was years at this point, I promised to do a column on old bird names.
Quite frankly, I forgot about it and never got around to doing the column. I can’t even remember what inspired me to consider such a column, but I must have been writing about a bird with a relatively new name and thought it would be a good idea to look at other somewhat recent bird name changes. Perhaps I wrote about a long-tailed duck and recalled the old name of oldsquaw. Regardless of the impetus, here’s that column I promised so long ago.
Now, I did write a column last summer about the most recent name changes by the American Ornithological Society. In that column, I relayed that the powers that be changed the name of the house wren we see in New England to northern house wren. A year earlier, I wrote that the three redpoll species were lumped into a single species called redpoll.
Photo by Chris Bosak A red-shouldered hawk perches on a branch during a snowy day in New England, January 2026.
It should come as no surprise that birdwatching is growing in popularity, according to several studies and other metrics. It had been gaining in popularity for years, but the pandemic greatly accelerated the movement.
As I researched the Great Backyard Bird Count for this column, I was surprised at how much birdwatching had gained in popularity, at least as it is measured by the number of GBBC participants.
I’ve participated in the Christmas Bird Count in all types of weather.
I can recall bitter cold days, unusually warm days, pouring rain, sleet, light snow and blustery snow squalls. Once a date is set far in advance, it is usually held on that day regardless of the weather.
This year, the count I did with my friend Frank in southern New England took place in a wet snow that accumulated before our eyes. It made for beautiful scenery but also frozen fingers and toes, damp clothing, steamed optics and fewer birds than usual.
Photo by Chris Bosak An eastern bluebird braves a New England winter and visit a backyard for mealworms, winter 2020.
The calendar may not show it yet, but in the New England bird world, we’ve officially entered what could be called winter birding season. The vast majority of southbound migrants have left, and the birds we get to enjoy for the next couple of months are either trusty year-round residents or northern visitors who have traveled as far south as they intend to go.
Winter is, of course, the prime time when juncos and white-throated sparrows are found in high numbers. My personal favorite part of winter birdwatching is tracking down different species of ducks. That is, if you can find some open water.
Cedar waxwing on crabapple tree, fall 2025, Huntington State Park, CT.
Sometimes, the path less traveled is the way to go. In fact, it almost always is when it comes to birdwatching.
The park I frequent in southern New England features a variety of habitats: ponds, woods, fields and marshlands. The fields are quite large and have a path running through the middle. In the spring and summer, visitors are restricted to the path to protect nesting birds such as bobolinks, field sparrows and red-winged blackbirds.
In fall and winter, however, after the fields have been cut, the restricted signs come down. Most people, in fact almost all people, still stick to the path as it’s the quickest and easiest way to get to the woods. They don’t see (or care about) the tremendous opportunities that exist along the brushy edges of the fields.