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.
They are the smallest of our warblers, but their call (at the link) is distinctive even if you can't see them foraging high in the forest canopy.
A factoid about these birds is that they breed in southern forests (in Spanish moss nests) and in northern forests (where conifers have Old Man's Beard lichen), but pass over a band across the middle of the US where there are neither of those tree parasites.
In warbler migration season (right now, in the US) you will quite likely hear one in the woods in the morning.
I wish my memory for warbler songs were better. I forget them every time May comes along.
In the US and Canada during these weeks, go outside in the morning where there are brush areas and some tall Oak trees, and listen to the migrating warblers singing. Experts don't bother with binoculars. Warblers do not really warble, but they do sing.