Cover image: Cedar Waxwing in a tree next to the Salt Marsh. Inwood Hill Park. June 3, 2023.
Whenever I encounter Cedar Waxwings, and they generally travel in groups, they seem to arrive from outer space. They are all beautiful and mysterious, thanks to those masks. Their arrival is unpredictable, appearing out of the blue, except for some expectations that many fly through New York in early June on their way to Canada. While I have come to learn on good authority that some have been seen recently settling down and raising a family nearby (in Fort Tryon Park, for example, just to the south of here) like regular earthlings, I still find them otherworldly.
Yes, I know they are native to North America, enjoy fruit, and are named for the waxy secretions at the tips of the secondary feathers. So, yes, a part of me understands that they are somehow a real part of the bird world of this section of the planet. But they possess their own aura. Have you ever heard a flock of Cedar Waxwings arrive en masse to a mulberry tree? Imagine the sound of tuning the dial on an old radio to find a station and hearing only high-pitch static. (I played the sound for my resting cat just now, and he hastily made his way to the computer speaker.)
I remember the date and time I was totally captivated by Cedar Waxwings, although I had seen them before here and there. (Years ago while living in a southern state, I happened upon a large flock of intoxicated Cedar Waxwings and was shocked at the spectacle.) It was March 6, 2022 at around 7:22 a.m. I was walking on the trail that rounds the eastern hill of Inwood Hill Park, the path that leads to the left of the fork behind the dog run. Near the railed section that tends to flood after a rain, I heard their “frequency.” Looking up, I saw of couple of Cedar Waxwings on a branch overhead.
The rest of the flock soon arrived and swooped quickly over to the glacial rocks on the north side of the hill. They looked sensational in their pale pastels, staying in the spot for about ten minutes. The next day, I walked over to the same place, and they arrived at the same time. And then the next day, they were there again. I have pictures. By the fourth day, they were gone.
In early March of this year, I made it a point to look for the waxwings at that same place and time. I didn’t hear or see them that month, but it’s a lesson of bird watching that others could have seen them. Birding can often involve a fear of missing out, especially for favorite birds.
I know now, though, that they are unpredictable. Don’t set a fixed date with a Cedar Waxwing.
On June 3 of this year, while on my usual morning rounds, I came upon a flock of birds in a tree next to the Salt Marsh. I immediately knew they were Cedar Waxwings.
Studies of Cedar Waxwings show that they often vary their migration patterns. For this year, I have a question -If many flock to southern Canada for their breeding grounds, then what impact would the current wildfires there have on their migration? (The potential impacts of wildfires are the topic of several ongoing studies.) When they do begin their southern journey for winter, often around August, they may take months to get to their destination. Sometimes, they do not migrate at all. All I know is that I saw them in the spring of 2022 and early June of this year. I don’t know if they were coming or going or maybe just staying here. I felt lucky just to see them. I don’t know when I will see them again.
On this day, they had perched in a Japanese Pagoda tree right outside my apartment window in Inwood.
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