Colored birds, at last

Having to wait for a ride home from class today granted me a few minutes to look at birds; I seized the opportunity. Eastfield College was alive with birds of all different sizes. Sparrows and Chickadees sang from high up in the treetops. Mourning Doves waddled on the ground. Great-tailed Grackles paraded around campus. I pulled my binoculars from my backpack and merely smiled at the puzzled glances of fellow students.

Then I saw it … a colored bird. Outside of Blue Jays and Cardinals, I hadn’t seen one since I left East Texas. I followed this one, hoping to get a closer look. I had never seen them before, I’m sure, but the campus today was teeming with the gray-backed, yellow-bellied birds. They flew from tree to tree, across parking lots, above the heads of sightless students, and even into nests. I looked carefully, taking in every detail I could.

I wandered toward the Motley graveyard. Downy Woodpeckers bobbed on the tree trunks, a pair of Blue Jays called loudly, a scissortail stood, stately and dignified, in a parking space, and several of the colored birds perched on the iron fence.

When I got home, I searched for the colored bird in my recently-acquired Sibley. I flipped through, looking for the general shape, and landed among the Tyrannidae family. A quick hunt revealed a bird I recognized. Every detail was the same – the yellow belly, the white breast, the gray head and back, the darker area around the eyes, the black tail with the thin, white edging. A Western Kingbird. My first life bird to identify on my own.