I read in the Washington Post this morning about recent painted bunting sightings on the Maryland side of Great Falls National Park.
This is the mythical bird of my youth! My mom had a bird identification book in a kitchen cabinet when I was a kid (I bet it’s still there), and I would climb up on a chair every now and then to browse through the book. After skimming through woodpeckers, shore birds, and various finches, I would inevitably end up on the page with the painted bunting, marveling at its bold, rainbow-colored plumage. This is where I first learned that most male birds are much prettier than females. It seemed to strange to me then. Over the years, the book began to fall open to this page on its own.
So, thanks to climate change, I now apparently don’t have to travel to Florida to see the painted bunting; if I’m lucky, I will be able to catch him in my own neck of the woods. Is this the push I need to become a birdwatcher?
My Corner of the Village 