Some of the most enchanting, unforgettable moments happen when we least expect them. This seems to be especially true when birdwatching, as many birders will attest. It was so for me a few weeks ago.

I’d lately been lamenting that I spend too little time birding, creating grist for this column. This was on my mind as I left the barn late one night after working with my horse for a few hours. As I stepped out of the building, the beauty of the night hit me with full force. The air was crisp, the sky clear, and the moon close to full. Mist hung low over the pastures, creating a lovely tableau.

The drive home was equally mesmerizing. In the distance I glimpsed Pushaw Lake, its surface shining silver. The bright moon filled the air with a soft light.

Too soon, I arrived home. As I got out of the car, I heard a lone coyote howling in the distance. Then, I began hearing the call notes of migrating birds passing overhead, and gooseflesh covered my skin.

I listened intently, hearing several call notes per minute; I imagined loose flocks of birds streaming overhead at intervals. Most of the call notes sounded like lisping “chips,” but a few were distinct, sounding as “weet” or “weert.”

I remembered my binoculars and pulled them from the car. Training them on the moon, I waited for my eyes to adjust before gazing steadily at it. After a few minutes, I was able to discern the small silhouettes of a few birds as they flit across this sphere of light, and was awed anew. How incredible was this journey they were undertaking.

I’m not sure how long I stood there, bathed in moonlight, listening to flight notes and the melancholy song of the coyote. But eventually the spell was broken when several cars passed by out on Route 43, and the neighbor’s dogs starting barking.

As I thought about the special glimpse I had been given into this monumental journey, I was reminded of a post I had recently read on a birding list-serve. It was written by Cornell University ornithologist Jeff Wells, who is also a senior scientist for the Boreal Songbird Initiative and is currently working out of an office in Hallowell.

Jeff had written about what he had heard upon leaving a movie theater after going to see “The March of the Penguins.” He recalled hearing many thrushes, warblers, and sparrows calling as they passed overhead that night.

“I estimated I was hearing at least one bird every 1-2 seconds. If this is a fair sample of what would happen over a longer period, then we could be talking about 3,000 to 4,000 birds passing over within earshot of our home every hour!”

He continued, “The penguin movie has brought one incredible natural spectacle to millions across the United States. I wonder how many of them will ever get to experience the equally amazing spectacle going on over their heads!”

I’m glad to say I’m one of them, and I hope, after you read this column, you’ll be motivated to go out and listen to the phenomenon of bird migration on the next calm fall night.

By the way, I asked Jeff if he could make a guess as to the identity of the odd “weert” call note I had heard. He suggested it could have been made by a thrush or a sandpiper.

Dr. Wells was involved in the search for the ivory-billed woodpecker in Arkansas. He will be at the Fields Pond Nature Center in Holden on Oct. 14 at 7:30 p.m. to share his experiences and photos taken during this search. For more information, call the Center at 989-2591. There is a small fee.

Also at the Fields Pond Nature Center on Oct. 7, 7:30 p.m.: Last winter, 75 students got involved in the Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s “Project FeederWatch,” to record their observations about what birds visited their feeders, and when. They then sent this data to Cornell for analysis. Come find out how local school children are furthering scientists’ knowledge of winter bird movements and populations. This presentation is free.

NEWS bird columnist Chris Corio can be reached at bdnsports@bangordailynews.net