Catbirds make for cheerful company on a lonely walk (orginally published fall 2001)

There’s no such thing as a bad walk outdoors. If nothing else, just breathing fresh air is reward enough for time spent  outside. 

The physical benefits of walking have been well documented, so on top of the fresh air, a walk outdoors is a healthy alternative to sitting on the couch.

With that in mind, the walk I took the other day was a success. But, as I usually do, I had an ulterior motive for taking this walk in the great outdoors. I wanted to — everybody together now — see birds and other wildlife.

Expectations for this walk were high because it was the first official day of autumn. You know, autumn, as in fall migration. In an idealistic state of mind because of the date on the calendar, I half expected every species of bird that flies over our parcel of the world at some time during the year to be at the wood’s edge to greet me.

“About time, Chris. We’ve been waiting for hours,” says the sharp-shinned hawk.

“Yeah, can you hurry up and take our photos. We kind of have a long trip ahead of us,” the blue-winged warbler chimes in.

In reality, here’s what I saw on the walk: two chipmunks, the tail of a gray squirrel, four dragonflies, four zillion honeybees and one gray catbird. I also heard a blue jay in the distance.

In terms of wildlife, I guess the walk would rate as largely unsuccessful. 

But not completely.

The catbird made my day. Catbirds are colorful in every sense of the word. Except for, well, color.

They’re all gray except for a patch of black on the top of the noggin, black eyes and a patch of rust under the tail, which is seen only if caught at the right angle. Catbirds are somewhat glossy in appearance, however, keeping them from looking totally bland.

Catbirds, by the way, look nothing like cats. Hey, it’s not such a silly notion; catfish are so named because they have whiskers like cats.

Catbirds are so named because of their vocalization. I remember not so many years back when a walk through catbird country would confuse the heck out of me. More often than not they remain hidden in thick brush and emit their call, which sounds eerily similar to a house cat’s whiny mewing.

Until I became a more proficient bird watcher, that scenario always confused me. I’m sure I never actually believed it was a cat in the brush, but I didn’t know what to make of it. I usually just walked away and made a mental note to figure out what it was.

As a side, mental notes never work while wildlife watching. Too many things happen after the mental note is made and the brain wave has long left your head by the time you get home. Bring a small tape recorder or pencil and notepad along.

The Catbird is also easy to identify by its song. It’s long, squeaky and not exactly melodic. I’ve never heard it, at least I don’t think so, but catbirds are known to mimic other birds as well.

This was a banner year for catbirds, at least as far as I’m concerned.

The sightings started early in the spring and haven’t let up. Many walks this summer were similar to the aforementioned scenario when catbirds were about the only living things I spotted. Even when robins made themselves scarce, catbirds were always around.

Catbirds seem rather friendly and often live in parks and backyards, similar to their close relative, the mockingbird.

The nice thing about seeing catbirds is that they usually give you a close-range view. They hop out of the brush onto a open branch or even land right on the trail and emit some sort of sound to draw attention to itself. 

Many times, drawing attention to itself is probably exactly the opposite of its intent. Fierce protectors of their nests, catbirds are usually the first to start making a racket at the sight of an intruder. This is most likely why catbirds are often the only birds seen on a walk. The other species have heeded the catbird’s warning and have laid low.

But seeing only catbirds is not such a bad thing. Hey, there’s worse ways to spend an afternoon.

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