Photo 1: “The First Hint of Magic”
There are birders who casually say things like, “Oh yeah…there were about fifty Cedar Waxwings over there.”
Fifty?
Where?
I’ve been reading about these mythical flocks for years.
Audubon says they gather in large numbers.
eBird says they travel in flocks.
Birds “R” Us says…
OK.
I made that last one up.
But you get the point.
For me?
Cedar Waxwings have always been a one-at-a-time bird.
Like finding a four-leaf clover.
Then this morning…
I saw two.
I nearly swallowed my lens cap.
Now here’s something every wildlife photographer eventually learns.
Nature doesn’t care that your light is terrible.
The sun had barely bothered to wake up.
The marsh looked like someone had turned the dimmer switch to “romantic dinner.”
ISO?
Let’s just say my Nikon and I had a brief counseling session.
But as my buddy Don Toothaker loves to say…
“Just get the shot.”
Because wildlife has a unique scheduling system.
It’s called…
“I’m leaving now.”
No warning.
No countdown.
No “Last call.”
Sometimes you glance down to change one tiny camera setting.
Three seconds.
You look back up…
Gone.
Vanished.
Poof.
It’s as if Mother Nature whispers,
“Should’ve been paying attention, George.”
Photo 2: “Wait…Where Did All These Guys Come From?”
But this morning…
The universe decided to reward patience.
One became two.
Two became four.
Four became seven.
Now I was no longer photographing birds.
I was photographing a committee meeting.
They flew together.
Landed together.
Turned together.
It looked less like bird behavior and more like synchronized swimming with feathers.
Then…
They all disappeared into the marsh.
Completely.
Nothing.
I stared into the grasses wondering if I’d imagined the whole thing.
Maybe low light causes hallucinations.
Ten minutes later…
Every one of them popped back into the trees as though they’d just returned from a coffee break.
Photo 3: “The Neighborhood Watch Committee”
And here’s what fascinated me.
Nobody was arguing.
Nobody was chasing anyone away.
No territorial screaming.
No feathered road rage.
Unlike robins, bluebirds, and cardinals that defend every square inch of real estate like beachfront property in Narragansett, Cedar Waxwings actually enjoy one another’s company.
Imagine that.
Birds…
Getting along.
They often feed together.
Nest near one another.
Travel together.
Apparently they’ve never been on social media.
Photo 4: “The Airbrushed Bird”
Can we just admit something?
Cedar Waxwings don’t even look real.
They look Photoshopped.
Silky cinnamon feathers.
Elegant crest.
Black masquerade mask.
Yellow tail tip dipped in fresh paint.
And then…
Those little red droplets on the wings.
The famous “wax.”
Except…
Here’s the funny part.
It isn’t wax.
Not even close.
Those brilliant red tips are actually keratin.
The same material that makes up your fingernails.
Scientists still aren’t completely sure why they’re there.
Maybe they impress potential mates.
Maybe they signal maturity.
Maybe they’re simply nature showing off.
Mission accomplished.
Photo 5: “The Wandering Philosophers”
Then I learned something that absolutely floored me.
Cedar Waxwings don’t really migrate the way most birds do.
They wander.
No GPS.
No interstate.
No vacation itinerary.
They simply go wherever fruit is abundant.
Today the berries are here?
They’re here.
Tomorrow they’re fifty miles away?
Off they go.
They aren’t following directions.
They’re following opportunity.
Which explains why I could never seem to find them.
They weren’t avoiding me.
They had simply found a better restaurant.
And speaking of restaurants…
These refined little gentlemen have another rather embarrassing habit.
They can actually get drunk.
Seriously.
Winter berries ferment naturally.
Waxwings gorge themselves.
Sometimes they consume enough alcohol to become intoxicated.
Wildlife rehabilitators regularly receive Cedar Waxwings that literally flew into windows after one berry too many.
Fortunately, they have unusually large livers for songbirds, allowing them to process alcohol far better than most birds.
Even so…
Every now and then…
Happy Hour gets the better of them.
They’re also hopeless romantics.
A courting male doesn’t simply hand a berry to his sweetheart.
He presents it.
She takes it.
Then hands it back.
He takes it again.
Back and forth.
Again.
Again.
Sometimes several times before she finally eats it.
Imagine giving your wife a chocolate-covered strawberry…
…and she keeps handing it back.
That’s Cedar Waxwing dating.
One Cedar Waxwing can also eat its own body weight in berries every single day.
For a 180-pound person…
That would be like eating 180 pounds of grapes before dinner.
And while they’re famous fruit lovers, during nesting season they become graceful aerial hunters, catching dragonflies, mosquitoes, and flying ants right out of the air like tiny feathered fighter pilots.
Watching them this morning, I finally understood something.
They aren’t wandering because they’re lost.
They’re wandering because they’re free.
They simply follow abundance.
Go where the berries are sweet.
Go where life is generous.
Honestly…
That’s not a bad philosophy.
For birds.
Or for people.
Naturally.
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