October had arrived in New York, although for a couple of days it didn’t exactly feel like fall. We had a stretch of warm weather before the temperatures finally started to cool down again.
And I hadn’t been getting out into Central Park as much as I wanted.
Life happens. Work gets busy. There are the ordinary things that have to get done, and before you know it, another week has passed. During fall migration in Central Park, that can be especially frustrating because you know the birds are moving through the city whether you’re there to see them or not.
So when Saturday finally came, I was excited.
We got up early. Let’s go to the park!
Unfortunately, the MTA had other plans.
The trains were painfully slow, and as we sat there, the fear of missing out was getting stronger. When you know migration is happening, every extra minute sitting on a train feels like birds are passing through the park without you.
Eventually, we made it.
A Quiet Start
We entered the park at the Harlem Meer, and at first, it was surprisingly quiet.
We walked past the Meer and headed toward the Loch. There were a few birds moving around, and then we spotted something that made us stop.
That’s different.
What is it?
An American Redstart.
Then another.
Suddenly, the morning was starting to feel a little more promising.
We continued toward the Pool, where we found Gadwalls, Mallards and an American Wigeon. Around the Pool we also started seeing flycatchers, including Eastern Pewees.
Then the alerts started coming in.
A White-eyed Vireo had been reported. So had a Red-headed Woodpecker.
Of course, we went looking.
We didn’t find either one.
But that’s birding.
Sometimes what you find while looking for one bird turns out to be just as exciting as what you were chasing in the first place.
The Birds Were There
Near Balancing Rock, just south of the Great Hill, things started to change.
There was movement.
With the trees still covered in leaves, fall birding can be frustrating. You see something move. You catch a wing. A bird disappears behind a leaf just as you raise your camera.
But once we slowed down and started looking, the birds began revealing themselves.
American Goldfinches. Rose-breasted Grosbeaks. Blackpoll Warblers. Swainson’s Thrushes. A Northern Parula. Even a Scarlet Tanager.
It wasn’t necessarily what had been reported 20 minutes earlier, but that didn’t matter. We were seeing fall migration happening right in front of us.
Even better, we ran into a friend we hadn’t seen in a while.
We stopped, talked, caught up and birded together. Later, near the Pool, we ran into another friend and spent some time birding with them, including getting another look at a Northern Parula.
That became one of my favorite parts of Saturday.
Yes, we had come to see birds. But we were also reconnecting with people.
Eventually, we headed home. It had been a good morning.
Then, of course, I started seeing reports from later in the day.
More birds.
More activity.
And I started thinking:
Maybe we need to go back.
Sunday: Let's Try Again
Sunday morning, we did exactly that.
We went back to Central Park.
This time we arrived a little later and again entered near the Harlem Meer. We walked through Nutter’s Battery because there had been activity reported there the previous day.
Nothing.
It was strangely quiet.
I saw a Red-tailed Hawk flying overhead, but otherwise there wasn’t much happening.
So we continued toward the Wildflower Meadow.
There were still flowers blooming and the grasses were tall. We started picking up a few birds, including a Common Yellowthroat and some American Goldfinches.
Then another birder friend, someone we hadn’t seen in a while, came over to say hello.
We started talking and catching up.
Suddenly she stopped.
“Did you see that?”
Something had flown across the road.
We looked down into the meadow.
A Tennessee Warbler.
But something wasn’t quite right.
The bird had several unusual white feathers.
We kept looking at it.
It really was a Tennessee Warbler, but a leucistic Tennessee Warbler.
How cool is that?
Suddenly, the three of us were whispering. We didn’t want to disturb it. From where we were standing above the meadow, though, getting a good view was difficult.
Our friend suggested we slowly make our way down to the lower path.
So we did.
Slowly.
Quietly.
And then the bird appeared.
Look at Me
For the next 15 or 20 minutes, that Tennessee Warbler put on a show.
We would back away.
It would come closer.
We’d move again.
It would come closer again.
At times, it almost felt as if the bird were saying:
Look at me. Look at me.
And we certainly did.
What made the moment even better was who I was standing beside.
I looked at her and laughed.
“Okay. First the Scarlet Tanagers. Now a leucistic Tennessee Warbler. What’s number three going to be?”
We all laughed.
Eventually, after giving us an incredible amount of time to watch and photograph it, the Tennessee Warbler flew away.
Just like that, it was gone.
One More Surprise
We continued up toward the Butterfly Gardens, where things were fairly quiet except for some sparrows.
Then we noticed small flocks of birds flying overhead.
Where were they going?
We followed them.
They landed in the pine trees near the nursery.
Golden-crowned Kinglets.
So once again, we stopped.
For another 20 or 30 minutes, we watched and photographed the kinglets as they moved through the trees.
Eventually, it was time to head home. We walked back through the Loch and past the Pool.
The park had become quiet again.
But it didn’t matter.
Sometimes You Have to Go Back for More
When I think about that weekend, of course the leucistic Tennessee Warbler was an incredible sighting. It was one of those birds and one of those moments I won’t forget.
But I think the weekend gave us something more.
Life can get busy. Work can be challenging. There are always things that need our attention, things to worry about and things that don’t always go the way we hoped.
For us, going to Central Park provides a distraction from all of that.
There is a joy that comes from simply being in the park. Walking the paths. Looking up into the trees. Hearing a bird and trying to figure out where it is. Seeing something move among the leaves and wondering what it might be.
For those few hours, everything else can fade into the background.
But the park gives us something else, too.
Caleb and I have been together for 35 years, and we’re still making new discoveries together.
There is still that excitement when one of us sees something move in a tree and says, “What’s that?”
We still get excited about following a flock of birds to see where they land. We can still be surprised by a tiny Tennessee Warbler appearing in the Wildflower Meadow when we weren’t expecting it.
Maybe that’s part of what keeps us young.
After all these years, there are still new places to explore, new birds to find, new photographs to make and new experiences for us to share.
The excitement is still there.
And birding doesn’t just bring us closer together. It connects us with other people and with nature.
This weekend reminded me of that.
We ran into friends we hadn’t seen in a while. We stopped. We talked. We caught up. We laughed. And we found birds together.
On Sunday, if our friend hadn’t stopped to say hello, would we have seen that Tennessee Warbler?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Instead, the three of us were standing there together when something flew across the path. A few minutes later, we were quietly making our way down into the Wildflower Meadow, trying not to disturb a very special little bird.
For 15 or 20 minutes, everything else disappeared.
There was no work. No train delays. No list of things that needed to get done.
There was just us, a friend and a leucistic Tennessee Warbler putting on a show in the middle of Central Park.
That’s the joy the park gives us.
And you never really know what to expect, especially during migration.
You can see an alert for a bird, walk across the park hoping to find it and never see it.
And that’s okay.
Saturday, we went looking for a White-eyed Vireo and a Red-headed Woodpecker. We didn’t find either one.
Instead, we found Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, Blackpoll Warblers, Swainson’s Thrushes, a Northern Parula and a Scarlet Tanager.
On Sunday, we weren’t chasing a Tennessee Warbler. In fact, at first we weren’t seeing much of anything.
Then a friend stopped to say hello.
Something flew across the road.
And everything changed.
That’s birding.
You go looking for one thing and nature gives you something else.
I think that’s one of the reasons we keep coming back.
Sometimes we go looking for birds. Sometimes we go because we need the distraction. Sometimes we need to get outside, walk, reconnect with friends and forget about everything else for a little while.
And sometimes we don’t even realize how much we needed it until we’re there.
We didn’t see every bird that had been reported that weekend. We missed some of the birds we went looking for.
But none of that really mattered.
We saw fall migration happening around us. We reconnected with friends. We laughed. We took photographs. We spent time together. And for a few hours, we were able to leave the challenges of everyday life somewhere outside the park.
Sometimes it’s the bird you were hoping to find.
Sometimes it’s a bird you never expected to see.
Sometimes it’s an old friend.
And sometimes it’s simply a little bit of joy when you need it most.
After 35 years together, we’re still discovering what’s around the next corner.
And the excitement lives on.
See you birding.
Bring a Little of the Wild Home
The 2027 Wild New York and Beyond Wild New York calendars are now available.
Each calendar features a year of my wildlife photography and the unexpected encounters that keep me heading back into the field. If you enjoyed this story, I hope you’ll enjoy having some of those moments with you throughout 2027.
