Summer has been all too short – that’s the mantra I keep hearing and repeating myself. Labor Day weekend at Roaring Brook in Baxter State Park went a long way toward making up for it, though.

First, the weather could not have been better. The days began crisp and cool – a harbinger of autumn – then turned warm and sunny, minus the oppressive humidity that had dogged us for weeks. And although there were still some mosquitoes around, the deer flies were gone – halleluiah! And although migratory season is upon us and the forest largely quiet, birds were still to be found.

A hike up Helon-Taylor Trail brought the call notes of warblers to our ears, and something else: a faint echo of a spring song. It was incomplete and sounded rusty, but there was no mistaking it: the buzzy vocalization of a black-throated blue warbler. Its maker was at first concealed within an area consisting of maple trees, fir trees and abundant hobblebush – this bird’s ideal habitat.

Finally we got a glimpse of him in all his finery, for he does not undergo the drastic plumage changes as do some of our other warblers. Seeing him was an unexpected treat, but I tried not to think of the long, cold, warbler-less months ahead. As the trail took us up through spruce-fir stands and nearer to treeline, we heard the squeaky, high-pitched calls of boreal chickadees.

These adorable little sprites were quick to investigate us, coming in close and scolding us with cute, petulant-sounding voices. Perhaps my use of “adorable” and “cute” in one sentence is a bit excessive, but you wouldn’t think so if you saw this little bird.

Although it resembles the more pedestrian black-capped chickadee – its coloration is cinnamon, black and white instead of black and white – there is a quality to this bird that somehow sets it apart. Maybe it is its smaller size; at 43/4 inches, it is the smallest of the chickadees. Maybe its tenacity as a dweller of extreme northern climes comes through. And maybe – now I’m being purely anthropomorphic (gasp!) – it has a robustness and zest for life that seems contagious. Whatever it is makes sightings of this chickadee a special event.

Later, toward evening, we headed out to Sandy Stream Pond. The cow moose and calf there weren’t the only attractions. Out toward the far shore of the pond was a group of five ducks that challenged my waterfowl identification skills. I’m not sure, but I think they may have been either juvenile ring-necked ducks or juvenile greater scaups.

Beyond them, at the shoreline, a spotted sandpiper scuttled among the rocks, while a cedar waxwing sallied from a spruce for flying insects nearby. As evening fell, the air cooled dramatically and we were all reminded that autumn is just around the corner. That’s OK; memories such as these are priceless during the cold winter months ahead.

Chris Corio, a volunteer at Fields Pond Audubon Center in Holden, can be reached at fieldspond@juno.com