This spring, they descended en masse along the New Jersey coast, voraciously looking to get their fill and then move on to the next location. New Jersey’s sleepy seaside town of Cape May hardly saw the attack coming. In packs they took to the roads, crowding out local residents and taking over inns and restaurants. Armed with an artillery of equipment — slick green binoculars, spotting scopes on tripods, sunscreen, straw hats and bug spray — the invasion of the birders was in full swing for New Jersey Audubon’s Spring Weekend from May 21-23, 2004.

Attracting an all-time high of 600 birders who came from locations near and far, Cape May Spring Weekend entailed field trips led by the area’s most respected birders, and lectures and workshops on everything with wings and feathers. And boy, did NJ Audubon deliver. Among the bird species seen were: Bald Eagle, Black Skimmer, Bobwhite, Clapper Rail, Dunlin, Green Heron, Oystercatcher, Osprey, Peregrine Falcon, Scarlet Tanager, Semi-palmated Sandpiper, Yellow Warbler, and White-rumped Sandpiper.

Cape May

The first morning, up at dawn, we tiptoed out of our quaint bed & breakfast, creaking down the old staircase. We actually missed the "breakfast" part of the B & B because no non-birders in their right minds can leave the cozy clutches of their beds before 6 a.m. This must be the case for most of the street’s beautifully crafted B & Bs, since not a soul was to be seen.

Yet, the birds were up. For us, being "bird nerds," we were excited. A short drive out of this idyllic Victorian-style town, took us to Belleplain Forest where we met up with the rest of the birders. To avoid bug bites, we sprayed on Deet and pulled our socks up over our pant legs (no one ever said birders were stylish). The excitement of the trip began to build. Chitchat of Yellow-billed Cuckoos, seen a day earlier, spread like wildfires. Someone said "Mississippi Kite" to which my own ears perked up and I paused in mid-sunscreen slather. I shot a look at my companions with a raised brow. The thought of seeing this striking black-and-white hawk with a streaming tale was absolutely tantalizing.

Of course, a great part of the appeal of birding is not knowing what you are going to see on any given adventure. You also never know who you are going to meet. Each trip brings with it the exhilaration of new birds and new acquaintances.

Semi-palmated Plover

Finally ready to hit the trails, we followed the birding caravan to the first stop. Ahead of us, bumper stickers and license plates proclaimed their owner’s loyalty to various birding spots, clubs and wildlife associations. If you haven’t guessed already, birders are boldly competitive. The more stickers and decals you’ve got, the better.

Once at our stop, no more than two minutes into the trail, the trip leaders showed their prowess. Calling like auctioneers at a hog sale, they spewed out names of birds they saw and heard. With hands cupped around their ears, and eyes toward the trees, they claimed species. I couldn’t see a thing, let alone hear the birds they were talking about!

"Can I get a Prothonitary warbler?" a woman in the crowd asked of the trip leader. "I just haven’t seen one yet," she continued with a plea. Down the chain, the leaders said to one another, "she needs a Prothonitary, she needs a Prothonitary." With confidence, one trip leader responded, "don’t you worry, we’ll get you one."

Gee, uh, I didn’t know you could order birds like you were at a deli counter. Moving on through the woods, I continued to be amazed at the trip leaders and how skillful they were. After about 20 solid hours of birding that weekend alone, I was dually impressed.

Two extreme days of birding later, the thought of leaving it behind felt awkward. Being exhilarated by what Mother Nature grants you is truly the beauty of birding.

Sanderlings

If you’re wondering about whether the woman got to see her Prothonitary warbler, the answer is yes. A striking yellow male strutted his stuff on a low branch for a brief second, right where she could see him, and then he flew off in a flash. Her face lit up, and then she quickly and very business-like jotted it down in her notebook. She must have noticed that another bird was missing from her list. For a moment later, with pencil raised in hand, she approached another leader. I was out of earshot to hear what her request was this time.

We never did see the Mississippi Kite that day. Yet, now we have a reason to go back for Fall Weekend, when raptors are migrating from far and wide to their wintering grounds up north. I’ll just have to make sure I place my order early enough for that.

New Jersey Audubon Society’s Autumn Weekend is from October 29-31, 2004.