Barbed wire is for the birds

Eastern bluebird and friend

How far would I be willing to go to get close to a cerulean warbler in the wild?

I would trespass on my neighbor's property without a qualm, and the neighbor's cows would not deter me. What holds me back is the barbed-wire fence.

Barbed wire conveys a pretty clear message: Stay away! A person as klutzy as I am has no business even contemplating crossing a barbed-wire fence, but nevertheless  I stood and stared at that fence for quite some time this morning, trying to imagine a way to get past it so I could cross the cow pasture to the copse of trees where the cerulean warbler was singing clear and strong.

I could not see it from where I stood--too far away, well hidden among the leaves. But I could hear it. The song stopped me in my tracks and kept me still long enough to confuse Hopeful, who kept coming back as if to ask why I wasn't walking.

What would happen, I wondered, if I managed to cross the barbed wire without impaling myself? I would glide slowly across the pasture, stepping carefully and trying not to startle the cows, and when I arrived at the other side, I would slowly lift the camera to my eyes--just in time to see the cerulean warbler fly off out of sight. And then, given my luck, I would end up stuck on the barbed wire with blood dripping down my legs and shoes full of manure.

So I finally turned away from the fence and the sound of the cerulean warbler and walked back home. The trip was not a total loss, however: I brought home a big glob of bird droppings on my shirt.

Indigo bunting

Bluejay