Grateful for an overnight temperature drop from the 90s into the mid-60s, I headed to the Pole Farm this morning. The sky was overcast, with little sun to coax the birds out into the open.
I had walked nearly two miles without even lifting my camera up to shoot when I heard the buzzy call of willow flycatcher. There it was — maybe 20 yards away atop a stalk of grass, but I had no clear shot. A moment later it flew farther back off the trail.
I repositioned my stance, training my lens through a tunnel of tall grasses to focus on the bird. It had its back to me, affording me a view of its dark green feathers and wingbars. I shot about a dozen frames before it flew off, and none of them showed any bit of its head beyond the back side of it.
That was the only bird I focused on today — all the others were calling from deep in the grasses and back in the woods, clearly heard but otherwise undetectable. I did get a fair look at an Eastern kingbird flying overhead, but that was using my binoculars.
While the photo gods were not kind today, I’m hoping for better luck tomorrow, when Apollo’s chariot is expected emerge from the clouds. 🦅
The Jersey Birder 