As I go out birding this weekend, the scorching sun and almost corporeal humidity causing the sweat on my body to mix with fragrant smelling insect spray that I doused myself with before I left home to prevent the killer mosquitoes from sucking out all of my blood while somehow attracting every commakazi deer fly on the planet to fly into my ear all in the pursuit of photographing the same four species of birds which I have photographed every one of the last 37 birding trips, I long for those wonderful days of the spring migration.
This spring was a magical time were warblers could be spotted on almost every branch and behind every leaf like a page out of a fairy tail. Most of the warblers continued north in the spring but a few types spend their summer in the area. Like this yellow warbler that I photographed at the Old cedar Ave Bridge back in the middle of June.
So as I lug 25 pounds of photographic equipment through swamps rampant with disease ridden ticks to try and get a bigfoot photo of a bird that is not the same as the past 2501 that I have photographed. It could be worse. It could be -30 below with a -75 below wind chill and ten feet of snow. It is important to enjoy the moment at hand because, with reports of warblers beginning to migrate back south, winter will be here soon.