Some birds get named after somebody. Some for a place. Some for their song. This bird chats. And whistles. And hoots. and churrrs. And so on. Of course they couldn’t call it a “Yellow-breasted Whistle-hoot-churrr-chat- etcetera-etcetera.” Too Bad. :)
Fitting description. They’re goofballs. Disregarding DNA, I don’t see how anyone thinks they’re warblers. : ) Warblers are no nonsense. Busy. Efficient. Tight. Acrobatic. Tiny. Chats are not.
Their flight can be downright comical. Drooped wings, tail pumping. Like they’re making fun of other birds. They don’t want to work. They just want to sing all day.
So everyone says they are more often heard than seen. True. They are master skulkers. You’d think the yellow would give them away. Nope. They find a tree with a few yellow leaves and tuck in somewhere. Good luck seeing them.
See what I mean?
But the real reason is they have a secret weapon. They throw their voice (or whatever birds have). A lot. And far. And all the time. So if you are looking for one: triangulate. : )
And after you know which direction it is you still have to figure out how far. It’s tough. You hear a whistle. It sounds ten feet in the bushes. But don’t get excited. It’s not there. Far off a churr. Next a hoot fifty feet to the right. Good grief.
You can go nuts looking for this bird.
I wish I could share the experience. : )
Maybe this will help. It’s the best I could do. :)
“Ott!
Chatt.
Churrrrrrrr.
Whoo-eeeet. Whoo-eeeet. Whoo-eeeet.
Whup!Whup!”
