I’ve traveled to Chimney Pond in Baxter State Park every year for the past three years with my hiking group. Each time there has been at least one special, memorable bird encounter, and this year was no exception.
Cold and intermittent rain greeted us when we arrived on Friday afternoon. Even when it wasn’t raining, the moisture-saturated air dampened everything; clouds enveloped the mountain. It was a pretty cheerless evening.
As we were finishing supper, the song started. Rich, loud and ringing, it was one that I had never heard before. We set out to find the bird, but it always seemed to elude us just as we might have gotten a good view of it. Soon my feet were wet, for I had exchanged my hiking boots for sneakers to wear around the campsite; and even though I had four layers of clothing on, I became so chilled that I had to stay in my sleeping bag to keep warm.
We all burrowed into our sleeping bags while it was still daylight, wishing for sleep to come and the miserable evening to be over. I thought of the words of one member of our group, who was absent this time around. Sandy Knox loves Chimney Pond; only recovery from hernia surgery prevented her from being with us this year. Her mantra was, “no matter what the weather is like, Chimney Pond is always a great place to be.” I had always agreed whole-heartedly.
For the first time, I disagreed with her. I felt cold and miserable, and regretted backpacking the three miles to get here. If it had not been so late in the day, I would have left immediately. I swore I would leave come morning if the weather had not improved.
I lay there in the lean-to I shared with my birding buddy and thought these dark thoughts. Suddenly, that melodious song burst out again very near our shelter. We bolted upright in our sleeping bags, and my friend’s little travel pillow flew right into the mud puddle in front of the lean-to.
The song stopped. We didn’t hear the bird again.
That’s just great, I thought. It figures. Just wait until morning….
Well, the morning that dawned the next day was one of the brightest, most sparkling mornings I had ever seen. And that mystery bird was back; its song seemed the epitome of beautiful mornings.
Leave? Whoever thought about leaving?
We set out to find this intriguing bird, and ended up close beneath the tree in which it was singing. We looked for identification marks.
It had a rather substantial-looking beak; this ruled out thrushes and warblers. There were rufous spots and streaking on its chest and sides and a spot in the middle of its breast – somewhat similar to a song sparrow’s mark. It did look like a sparrow, but seemed bigger than usual for members of this clan. We noticed, in particular, the bright rufous color on its wings and tail, and the gray and rufous pattern around its head and neck.
It should have been obvious, but still we were clueless. It had to be a sparrow, but one we’d never seen before – or so we thought.
The mystery finally resolved itself later that morning. When the bird flew down to the ground we recognized it immediately as a fox sparrow.
This bird had looked unfamiliar because the only time we usually see it is during migration; it breeds in Alaska and almost exclusively in Canada, with a small inclusion of extreme northwestern Maine. In winter and on migration, it is a shy bird that skulks beneath thick brush, foraging on the ground for seeds, fruit, and insects. Quite unlike the brazen behavior it exhibited at Chimney Pond!
The question was: What was it doing here? It soon became obvious that it was not alone; we heard other fox sparrows singing during our stay. I read that it may sometimes sing during migration; was this the case? However, this was the second week of July – a little early for this species to be migrating, since it is known as a late fall migrant. Could it be expanding its breeding range?
Regardless of the answer, I was glad I remained to experience another one of Chimney Pond’s treasures.
Chris Corio, a volunteer at Fields Pond Nature Center in Holden, can be reached at fieldspond@juno.com
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