There was a vocal Rose-breasted Grosbeak.
I stood below a tree, listened and scanned the branches for fifteen minutes. Saw a silhouette flit to a new branch, but lost it. So it goes.
Birding by ear gives a general idea where a bird is. You know where a sound is coming from, but can’t pinpoint: second branch from the top, to the left, not facing this way.
I abandoned the Rose-breasted Grosbeak and walked where a Marsh Wren or Swamp Sparrow is a safe bet.
Again, I heard but did not see. Maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough. My mind wasn’t fully there. Scanning vegetation for a Marsh Wren, there was a verdant distraction.
My favorite fern, Onoclea sensibilis. Camera set up for birds, I took pictures of it anyway. Shutter speed was unnecessarily high and it was taking twenty pictures per second, but I wanted to document sensitive fern.
It was pleasant to go through all those identical photos later on, deleting most, and be reminded of my favorite fern. Leaving that spot, more ferns. My birding outing was becoming a fern outing.
Royal fern, Osmunda regalis. For a while the common name of a different fern, lady fern, made me think of royalty.
I once “found myself surrounded by lady fern,” Athyrium filix-femina. “It seemed improper to be stomping around in it.” It did feel wrong, but royal fern will always be the most regal, regalis after all.
It was good to branch out beyond Onoclea, thanks in part to the genus Osmunda. Osmunda regalis, royal fern; Osmunda cinnamonea, cinnamon fern. Amauropelta noveboracensis, New York fern; Dennstaedtia punctilobula, hay-scented fern. Trailside informational signboards are helpful, as is the PictureThis app—though when outside, I try to keep my phone in my pocket.
When the birds aren’t cooperative, ferns don’t fly away.
It’s gotten to the point I’ve missed birds because I was looking at ferns or arrowwood viburnum, Viburnum dentatum, one of the first plants I felt comfortable identifying.
That morning, seeking avian redemption, I tried a spot where a Belted Kingfisher is likely. As was proving to be the day’s norm, I heard but did not see one.
Instead of seeing a kingfisher, I saw Cedar Waxwings and many oxeye daisies. Leucanthemum vulgare. Per The Spruce, they’re “a perennial wildflower considered to be especially cheerful and mystical in the eyes of many plant lovers.”
There were so many, I thought it must be too good to be true. Invasive?
When I saw the Latin name I wondered, why vulgare? It was formerly Chrysanthemum leucanthemum. Are they somehow vulgar?
My apprehension was perhaps misguided—but also perhaps not. Here, oxeye daisy is classified as an invasive. Contrarily, Westborough Community Land Trust says:
…in New England, the ox-eye daisy is not listed as an invasive species. It is more typically regarded as a non-native plant that has become naturalized—as one field wildflower among many. It’s in good company—in Massachusetts, non-native plants make up about one-third of all our native and naturalized plants. (Only about 3 percent are invasive species.)
When birding, it is too easy to overlook anything without wings. As I become more interested in butterflies, I joke: At least they have wings.
Sometimes my mind isn’t there as it needs to be to bird efficaciously. In such cases it can be good to rest the birds and notice the plants. That’s not to say plants are easier—they definitely aren’t—but they don’t fly away. If you can’t remember how a plant is called, you can keep staring until you remember. Birds are often long gone.
Birding is good for humans because it makes us slow down, pay attention, listen and learn. With so much to learn about and pay attention to, why stop at avians?
There’s all kinds of verdancy to gain fluency with.
Here’s the only song I could think of about ferns. I didn’t want to be heavy on the twang early on between this and Prine, so included another too.
“Birdwatching.” I like bird related songs. The artist is Virginia Creeper, Parthenocissus quinquefolia. A deciduous, woody vine in the grape family. Its leaves have five leaflets—sometimes three or seven. It is a “vigorous grower.”
Thank you for reading.
Wonderful post, James. I love the emphasis here on learning to listen, to hear birds not only as a way of identifying them but of deepening our awareness. And your shift in focus to ferns also brings a great deal of appreciation for the natural world. Thanks for a great article.
Your wonderful writing has sent me down a fern rabbit hole. I googled "hay scented fern and coumarin" and ended up on fragrance reddit and now I'm reading all about the smell of different ferns. Thank you.