Winter Birds

I decided to get out my 55-300mm lens the other day, figuring that it's a good time of year to practice bird shots. I was hoping for more reward for my effort since there's less cover.

Look at what I spotted near the top of a sweetgum.

A pair of goldfinches sporting their winter olive drab.

In a nearby tulip poplar roosted a male Eastern bluebird,
almost the same shade of sapphire blue as the winter sky.

I tried to get a shot of a yellow-rumped warbler in the wax myrtle next to the driveway -- there's always one or two, although the warblers and cedar waxwings have nearly stripped the tree of its berries. I kept going around and around the tree with the warblers going around and around just ahead of me, but I did get this picture of a warbler on the driveway in mid-hop. They are very dapper even in their more subdued winter garb.

This female cardinal was half-hidden in the tangle between the myrtle and the neighbor's pasture.

Here's really what I stalking, having seen him in the Buddeleia next to the back porch before I got the camera:

An almost clear shot of the diminutive ruby-crowned kinglet.

Ruby-crowned kinglets are often heard before seen, as they characteristically emit a liquid husky chirp and chatter as they feed. The male also often utters some wispy high-pitched calls that as spring approaches will cresendo into a loud burbling singsong chant, which he typically sings with his red crest raised and at which point his cuteness factor goes off the charts.

Hermit thrushes overwinter here. These thrushes look like they wish that they were somewhere warmer.
We hear wood thrushes singing in spring and summer: We also often here the subsong of hermit thrushes before they migrate back to the north in the spring, so we get a taste of what they sound like. Subsong is typically sung at low volume and slightly warbled by young birds and adult males in pre-breeding season mode.

The words "ethereal", "flute-like" and "haunting" are often used to describe the songs of the wood and hermit thrushes. There is nothing more beautiful that the sound of the songs of one of these thrushes floating through the woods in summertime.