We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
I can hear, out my window this morning, the songs and calls of Pine Warbler, Black and White Warbler, Redstart, Red-eyed Vireo (not exactly a warbler), Magnolia Warbler, Yellow Warbler, Black-Throated Blue, Parula, Prairie Warbler, and a few more that I am not sure about.
My idea of watching the spring warblers is a chaise lounge lawn chair flat, under a big old oak tree with binocs. Preferably, a big oak near some juniper trees - which is why I planted my junipers and Japanese willows: to watch the warbler migration with minimal exertion. Let them come to you. Just wait for them to pass through the trees. Otherwise, it's a day of neck pain. Knowing their calls simplifies it: you don't have to try to see them. But plenty of them forage silently in the treetops. Especially the odd vireos.
Get out there and see these little jewels of Creation, and listen to their morning calls, as they pass by on their trip north.
I keep a couple of feeders outside my kitchen window. It's better than television. We've had Slate-Colored Juncos, Goldfinches, Fox Sparrows, Cow Birds, Cardinals, Mourning Doves, Ruby-Throated Grosbeaks and many others passing through, the names of which I can't remember off-hand.
I must say the squirrels are pretty depressed since I got a new feeder they can't pillage. I hear them sobbing softly as they go to sleep at night.