A Special Visitor

It had been a good morning of birding. Susan and I, along with a volunteer army of about 60 like-minded folks, under the command and direction of General Dwight Chasar, had just finished the fall birding census in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. Our mission: Count every species and every bird we saw.
Mission accomplished, survivors of the battle met for lunch. We were about to call it quits when fellow birder, Marc Nolls, gave us the word. A Northern Wheatear had been spotted in Holmes County.
If you want to see a Northern Wheatear in North America, pack your bags and head for Alaska. If you want to see one on its wintering grounds, pack your bags and head for Africa. Needless to say, having a Northern Wheatear—a life bird!—90 minutes from home is almost a no brainer when deciding whether to go.



Off we went. Thanks to the marvel of modern communications and great directions from fellow birders, finding the place was easy. Rarely is chasing birds this easy. We arrived at the Yoder farm and there stood the rare bird. It acted like being in central Ohio was no big deal. It posed. We oooed and aaaaed. The bird, a bit smaller than an Eastern Bluebird, shagged bugs, watched us and checked out the local bluebirds. Its long legs and upright posture make it appear larger than its 5.75-inch length.
The crowd of about 50 people were in a jovial mood. Birders get that way when we find a life bird. There was minimal speculation of how the bird turned up on this Amish farm in Ohio. Birders accept the reality that since birds have wings, they go where they damn well please. Young Mr. Yoder found the bird early Saturday morning. He (as are many of the Amish sect) is skilled enough in bird identification to realize he had something special. He went to a nearby shop and had the owner alert the birding community.

We are all indebted to his skills and willingness to have the birders invade his farm. His Amish neighbors had gathered, probably to watch us Englishmen (as they call us) as much as see the bird causing the ruckus. Also, I noticed Mr. Yoder was doing a brisk business selling tomatoes and grapes. As more people walked up his driveway, Mr. Yoder laughed when he told me it was a bit busier around the farm this Saturday morning than is typical.