I completed my first “Big Day by Bike” this past Saturday and came home with 123 bird species on my checklist. For non-birders, a “Big Day” is when an individual or team spends an entire day trying to locate as many species of birds as possible within a given area. Many big days coincide with the climax of the Spring bird migration and organizations, such as National Audubon Society, organize conservation fundraising events for the occasion. Some of the regular readers of this blog might remember my past efforts with our team “The Wandering Talliers”. This year I decided that it made more sense to ride a bicycle to various locations than to burn gasoline in the name of bird conservation. I can’t take credit for this carbon-neutral birding idea, there are several folks doing it around the country. By far, the most incredible undertaking is being carried out by 15 year old Malkolm Boothroyd and his parents. The three are spending one year and cycling approximately 12,000 miles in search of birds. I think I would need a little more training and a lot more money to even attempt something of that scale. Nevertheless, the concept is the same and New York City has a surprising diversity of bird habitats crammed into a relatively small space.
For my long day of tracking, I’ve separated the various bird groups into the following categories; woodland, coastal/marine and grassland. Most of my day would be spent within the borough of Brooklyn, however I would also be traveling through the Rockaways and ending my day at Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge, which is Queens. My ten destinations chosen by the birds likely to be found there were Prospect Park, Green-Wood Cemetery, Shore Road Greenway, Calvert Vaux Park (Dreier-Offerman), Sheepshead Bay, Plum Beach, Floyd Bennett Field, Riis Park, Big Egg Marsh and Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge.
Prospect Park, which has a nice stretch of woodlands that runs north/south through the center of the park. Besides being the best location in the borough to find migrating songbirds, I live nearby, so making Prospect Park my first stop was a no-brainer. I’d learned through several pre-dawn outings in the park that it isn’t necessary to be in the park before sunrise. Wood-warblers and other songbirds begin their morning chorus about 30 minutes after sunrise. I would be in the park no later than 6am.
All week I was concerned about the weather forecast. At one point, predications called for thunderstorms all day. Thankfully, all the rain fell on Friday and Saturday arrived with clear, cool conditions. When I left my home at 5:40am, it was a chilly 48 degrees. By 2:30pm, the temperature would rise by 23 degrees! Unlike my previous ride, the wind would be in my favor, giving me a nice tail wind and helping me make up for any lost time spent dawdling too long in one location.
I rode into Prospect Park at the 5th 
Street entrance and coasted north on the footpath towards Grand Army Plaza. It was still pretty dark, but I listened closely for bird songs. Once at the northern entrance to the park, I pedaled around to the eastern pathway and slowly worked my way uphill, towards the Rose Garden. For anyone who has ever been on my birding tours of the park, it was a typical route; the Rose Garden, Vale of Cashmere, Aralia Grove, East woods, Sullivan Hill woods, Rick’s Place, Ravine, Midwood and the Lily Pond. I needed to be out of Prospect Park by 7:30am, so the waterways, Lookout Hill and the Peninsula Woods would have to be skipped.
I got off my bike near the Rose Garden. A pair of Mallards had spent the night sleeping at the edge of the only working fountain in the garden. I heard the spiraling, flute-like song of a Veery coming from somewhere near the Vale of Cashmere. There were other birds beginning to sing from within the surrounding woods; the loud, ringing, “teacher, teacher, teacher” of an Ovenbird, the clean, singsong melody of a Rose-breasted Grosbeak and the persistent, “peter, peter, peter“ of a Tufted Titmouse. There weren’t any birds around the pond below the Rose Garden, but the narrow stretch of trees between the vale and Nelly’s Lawn held a small mixed flock of songbirds. I heard, then located a Blackburnian Warbler in a beech tree. Nearby were parula, black-and-white and Black-throated Green Warblers. Skirting the edge of Nelly’s Lawn, I rode around to the large Willow Oak where I had seen the Kentucky Warbler on May 4th. It’s usually a good spot for migrating songbirds. From there I headed towards the woods north of the zoo, then crossed Nelly’s Lawn to follow the stretch of woods towards Rick’s Place and the Midwood.
There’s a set of broken down stairs that ascends from the park drive near the zoo, up to Payne Hill. It’s also at the northern edge of the Midwood forest. As I approached the stairs, I heard a Cape May Warbler’s simple, one note ”seet, seet, seet, seet, seet“. I ran to the stairs to find a small mixed flock of warbler feeding in the treetops and within the shrubs. The cape may was a lucky find, but there was also a black-throated blue, black-throated green, parula and black-and-white warblers. The flock was moving through the area quickly and I continued towards Rick’s Place, to check out the mud puddle. I had only walked about 20 yards when I heard the warbling trill of a Cerulean Warbler. I was on the top of the ridge that runs the length of the park. At the base of the ridge there are several mature tulip trees, sweetgums and oaks. I located the cerulean foraging near the top of one of these huge trees. Cerulean Warblers are a declining species that are difficult to see on migration because they usually prefer the tops of the tallest trees. I scanned the immediate area for other birders, because I wanted to share this find. On a normal day of Spring birding, I’d ride off and spread the word of the bird’s location, but I didn’t have that luxury. I needed to stay on schedule.
I zig-zagged through the most heavily wooded areas of the park and finally ended up at the bridle path behind the Lily Pond. Birds frequently come down to the edge of the water in the area behind the Music Pagoda and I was hoping to pick up a few more species. It was already well passed 7:30am when I hopped back on my bike at the eastern end of Center Drive. I saw my friend Nancy walking along the bridle path and stopped for a minute to say ”hello“ and tell her about the Cerulean Warbler. Moments before I spotted her, I heard a Blackpoll Warbler’s squeaky wheel song coming from directly above me. After a brief chat, I headed west on Center Drive and made my way towards the park’s exit at Bartell Pritchard Circle.
I had only two reasons for pedaling passed Green-Wood Cemetery. One was to add Monk Parakeet to my day list, the other was to, hopefully, add Snow Goose. Cycling in the cemetery is forbidden. Locking my bike at the entrance and walking to the pond to find the wayward Snow Geese would take too much time. I found a location along the perimeter fence, near 35th Street, where there is a partial view of the pond. On two previous attempts, I wasn’t able to see the geese, so I was keeping my fingers crossed. Cycling along that section of 5th Avenue isn't fun because of street construction, so I rode on the sidewalk. I peered through the fence is three spots, but couldn’t find the geese. There were sections of brand new sewer pipes stacked on pallets at the edge of the road. I thought about climbing on top to get a better view of the pond. Then I noticed a small flock of Canada Geese coming into view. As I scanned the flock, one of the Snow Geese walked out from behind a tombstone. I clipped my feet into my pedals and continued riding towards 9th Avenue and 37th Street. From
there, I would head south.
Much of 9th Avenue is a joy for cycling. It runs, primarily, through residential neighborhoods and is well-paved. It is mostly downhill and took me 20 minutes of nearly effortless riding to travel the 3.75 miles. From beneath the Verazzano Bridge, I would continue east along the Shore Road Greenway.
I was looking for Purple Sandpipers along the rocks that edge Gravesend Bay, below the greenway. The tide was high, so I figured that any 
sandpipers that hadn’t migrated north, should be pretty easy to spot. And they were. The first one was only about 1/4 mile from where I began riding along the greenway. I spotted three more a short time later. Scanning the bay wasn’t very productive and the dominant bird species (and nearly the only one) was Laughing Gull. There were also a pair of scaup still present. With the wind at my back, I blasted down the bike path towards Calvert Vaux Park.
A while back, someone told me that there was an alternate entrance to Calvert Vaux Park, a foot path, at the end of Bay 44th Street. I’m not sure what I was thinking, but rather than continuing 40 yards east, I turned down Bay 44th Street. There was no footpath or cut in a fence, instead I found myself walking through a recently graded area that the city of New York wants to turn into a waste transfer station. There were several noisy Killdeer running around trying, no doubt, to draw me away from their nests. Earth and old construction 
debris had been piled up to form a berm at the edge of a small cove. I decided to hoist my bike onto my shoulder and climb over the hill and down to the edge of the water.
I chose my steps carefully over large chunks of concrete and asphalt to the narrow cove on the north side of Calvert Vaux Park. Five Semipalmated Plover flew up ahead of me, declaring, ”chu-weet“. There 
was also a pair of Spotted Sandpipers teetering along the shore and picking their way through accumulated, toxic manmade flotsam. A Ring-necked Pheasant cackled from somewhere inside the park. From a distance, the cove might actually seem like a pretty landscape, but in actuality, I don’t know how any form of wildlife manages to survive along the water’s edge. I climbed up the boulders on the opposite side of the cove and continued looking for birds within the park’s grasslands.
I had arrived at the park pretty late, by birding standards, and there was already a lot of human activity on the fields. A man was flying a remote control helicopter around the most isolated section, so there weren’t any birds present. One pleasant surprise was seeing a pair of Red-throated Loons on Coney Island Creek. Unfortunately, the dominant species of bird on most of the ball fields was starling. I rode my bike along the narrow path between the main part of the park and the baseball fields adjacent to the Home Depot. Near the start of the path I heard an Orchard Oriole singing from the top of an Ailanthus tree, another unexpected checkmark for the day list.
When I participated in ”Big Days“ in the past, there was always a designated list keeper. During the travel time between locations, we’d go over our observations and that person would make the additions to the growing list. I realized that as a single birder, traveling by bicycle, going over the list after exiting each location takes time, something I didn’t take into account when planning my day. There’s pedaling time, birding time and note taking time and, somewhere in between, should be lunch time.
The route from Calvert Vaux Park to Sheepshead Bay is unavoidable. There aren’t many choices for roadways because on the north side of the Belt Parkway is the sprawling Stillwell Avenue train yard. I had to turn south onto Cropsey Avenue, which takes you over the most polluted section of Coney Island Creek. From Cropsey, I’d continue east on Neptune Avenue. I’m being kind when I describe Neptune Avenue as being the biggest piece of crap roadway in New York City for cyclists. The only thing that allows city officials to declare it a bikeway is that someone painted white lines, a few diamond shapes and, what appears to be, a symbol of a bicycle. Head-in parking, double-parking, inattentive drivers and terrible pavement makes riding the stretch from Stillwell Avenue to Ocean Parkway akin to running a Roman gauntlet. A couple of weeks ago, while stopped at a traffic light on Neptune Avenue, I watched an unmarked police car pull over a driver. There were three other cyclist next to me and we all cheered. A small victory for New York cyclists.
In contrast to Neptune Avenue’s chaos, Emmons Avenue along the edge of Sheepshead Bay, is quiet and serene. Dozens of Mute Swans ply the water beneath the pier and around the chartered fishing boats. Nearly all the overwintering waterfowl had departed, leaving the swans to rule the marina and beg for handouts from us humans. Barn Swallows were abundant and have built nests under the overhanging piers. There wasn’t anything unusual present, so I hopped back on my bike and raced over to the greenway that starts near Plum Beach.
On my previous rides, I discovered that there are several paths in the sand that descend towards the marsh through the brush close to Gerritsen Inlet. I decided that it would be considerably faster taking one of those paths than walking the length of the beach from the parking lot to the mouth of the marsh. The shortcuts intersect with a path that fisherman have worn along the top edge of the marsh heading out towards the creek. The sand is hard-packed, so it only took me a couple of minutes to ride the short distance to the inlet. A Clapper Rail called from somewhere within the grass to my right. Fourteen Least Terns were diving for fish along the shallows at the water’s edge. Common and Foster’s Terns were also nearby. I spotted a dead, three-foot long Smooth Dogfish lying on the shore. There were three fishermen near the base of the bridge, so my first thought was that it was an unfortunate ”by-catch“ that they had just discarded. I ignored a small flock of shorebirds to examine the fish. It had azure, cat-like eyes and glassy, streamlined skin. Like the birds I was seeking, this slender shark migrates north in the spring and south in the fall. It wasn’t the first time that I’d seen one tossed up onto the beach to die. What makes a man look at an animal and regard its life as worthless? Is it that they are so abundant that some people think of them as being dispensable? Unfortunately, it is that attitude that will eventually cause them to decline.
I returned to the marsh, where the water was rushing out on the dropping tide. There was a small mixed flock of shorebirds standing at the edge of the rivulet. Among them was a pair of Ruddy Turnstone in fresh, stunning, breeding plumage. Close to them were several Least and Semipalmated Sandpipers.
It was perfect beach weather and I could have stayed for the rest of the day, but it was past noon, I hadn’t
eaten lunch and Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge was, at least, an hour away. I did a quick tally, adding 9 new species my list and headed towards Floyd Bennett Field in search of grassland species. I would have made the 1.5 miles in record time, but waiting for the light to change at the busy crosswalk on Flatbush Avenue seemed insufferably long. A jogger, whom I had passed 5 minutes earlier, arrived at the crosswalk and pressed the pedestrian signal button. Ten seconds later, the light changed. It was the first time that I’d ever seen one of those buttons actually work correctly. While I was impatiently tapping my foot and watching the cars fly passed, it never occurred to me to push the button.
Floyd Bennett Field’s 387-acres could take a very long time to cover by bicycle, especially when one is riding in 16 mph west winds. It wasn’t so much tiring as non-productive. The only birds that were not hunkered down against the wind were swallows. There is a wonderful feeling of freedom when pedaling around the old airfield. One gets to hear sounds around the edges of the fields or wooded areas that are normally insulated by an automobile’s shell. The slower speed also affords a more detailed look at the natural and manmade structures around the property. On Saturday, however, my time restraints and the strong wind created a less enjoyable experience. Riding around the edges of the grassland on the old runways became an exercise in futility. I found a single Bank Swallow drinking at the edge of a puddle near the model airplane field. There were two Mallards and a Black-crowned Night-Heron at the ”Return a Gift“ pond and bird sounds or sightings in the North 40s were nearly nonexistent. I also finally gave up trying to locate Field Sparrows in their typical locations. The wind became a concern when I started crossing the Gil Hodges Bridge to Riis Park. It was so strong that I walked the bike most of the distance.
After crossing the bridge, I stopped to scan the structure for Peregrine Falcons. They usually nest on the bridge and can almost always be found somewhere close to the nest box, but not today. I continued south on Beach 169th Street until I reached the sand at the western end of Jacob Riis Park. My target species at Riis was the endangered Piping Plover. They nest in several locations along the Rockaway Peninsula and I planned to walk along the beach for however long it took to find one. These tiny, sand-colored plovers move in fits and starts and are easily overlooked. Fortunately, and for the first time all day, I didn’t even have to get off of my bike to find my target. While I was still straddling the bicycle, I spotted a small bird moving along the beach from right to left. I put my bins up, focused, saw that it was a Piping Plover and began riding again. I was getting very hungry and concerned that I wouldn’t make my 4pm planned arrival at Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge.
From Beach 169th Street to the Cross Bay Bridge is 4 miles. I made a brief stop along the way to eat a snack and also had to wait approximately 15 minutes for the shuttle van that takes cyclists across the bridge. It took me 42 minutes from the time I saw the Piping Plover to arrive at Big Egg Marsh. Big Egg is in Broad Channel and 1.5 miles south of the refuge. It’s usually a good place to look for sharp-tailed sparrows, as well as, shorebirds. Parallel to the bridge and at the east edge of the small park, there is a narrow, marshy channel. This is the area where one might find the sparrows, but the water level
was too high and covered most of the habitat. Along the shoreline I spotted a small mixed flock of shorebirds and added Black-bellied Plover, dowitcher and Dunlin to my list. I pushed my bike along the 600-yard trail that runs the perimeter of the marsh. At times, slogging through ankle deep muck seemed pointless, as I was hungry, tired and not finding any birds. I began craving pizza and convinced myself that I could actually smell a fresh pie over the fine, sulphurous
bouquet of the marsh.
There are only about 6 places to eat in Broad Channel. Tommy’s Pizza is one of those places. It’s a cozy, little neighborhood pizza place and I’ve eaten there dozens of times over the years. The two guys who run the restaurant are from Palermo and frequently speak to each other in Italian. The last few times I was there business was slow, so they sat in a booth across from me, watched me eat and made light conversation. Occasionally, they’d break into Italian and I’d say (joking around), ”Hey, stop talking about me.“ On Saturday we talked about the refuge, birds and what I was trying to accomplish. They seemed mildly interested. When I told them what time I left the house and how far I had ridden, they spoke to each other in Italian for about 5 minutes. I took a 45 minute break to eat and update my day list. By the time I made the short ride to the refuge, changed my shirt and locked up my bicycle it was 4:40pm.
As I was heading towards the West Pond, I kept thinking something was missing. Then realized, ”Oh yeah, the bike.“ It hadn’t been out of my sight since I left the house at 5:40am, I was watching it even when I was at the pizza place.
The wind was still blowing hard out of the west and across the pond. Birds were hunkered down, but there was a small flock of yellowlegs and other shorebirds on the shoreline 
below bench #2 and against the phragmites. I ran into a couple who had been out to the end of the Terrapin Trail, so I asked them if there were any birds around. Apparently, the wind was doing a good job of keeping that area clear of birds, as well. I walked back towards the Visitor’s Center and decided to check the trails through the north and south gardens. Tom Burke and Gail Benson were coming out of the gardens and told
me that there weren’t any birds in there either. The wind, which had made my cycling so easy that day, seemed to have taken the birds away. Tom asked if I had seen a Barn Owl, which I hadn’t, so suggested I check out the refuge on the east side of Cross Bay Boulevard. Since 2003, Shane and I (and various other team members) had ended our Big Days at the refuge. We’d stay until darkness to listen for woodcocks then wait for the Barn Owl to fly out of her nest box. For 5 years, the Barn Owl disappointed us by not making an appearance. On this sixth year, I found myself looking across Big John’s Pond at the nest box in bright sunshine. As four birders looked out through the holes cut in a dark-green, plywood blind, a Barn Owl lifted her head up and peered out at us from her blind. I was elated to have finally seen this secretive bird, but too tired to show it. I slowly walked to the East Pond to look for waterfowl and wading birds.
Ducks were scarce on the East Pond, but a few hundred swallows careened back and forth above the water. Among the numerous Barn and Tree Swallows was at least one Northern Rough-winged Swallow. I was joined at the opening along the edge of the water
by the three birders who had been at the blind. They were participating in a Big Day in Queens for the Queens County Bird Club. After introductions, it turned out that we knew each other...sort of. Arie Gilbert, Ian Resnick, and Donna Schulman are names that I know from the three main birding forums in New York (eBirds, Metro Birding Briefs and NYS Birds). I’ve read their postings for years and kind of felt like I knew them. Actually, Ian reminded me that we had met in the past. At that point in the day I had begun to fade, mentally and physically, and I think it showed. After they departed, I walked the north path a short distance to a blind, hoping to locate something different around the bend. I didn’t, so walked slowly back to Big John’s Pond.
The calling tree frogs in the wetlands around the pond seemed to be growing in intensity. However, a single frog was sitting quietly in the roof structure of the blind, exactly where I photographed one last year. It must be prime
real estate. With the sun no longer beating down on the nest box, the Barn Owl remained hidden. I walked across Cross Bay Boulevard and into the North Garden of the refuge. The wind had died down, but there still wasn’t much bird activity. I spotted a Ruby-throated Hummingbird hovering about three feet off the ground at the edge of a shrub. There weren’t any flowers on the shrub, so I assumed that the hummingbird was eating insects. I walked as far as the north end of the garden, then turned around and headed back to the South Garden and West Pond.
It was nearly high tide when I turned onto the West Pond trail. Flocks of shorebirds were arriving to roost in the South Marsh. Photographer Jeff Kollbrunner, who was with his wife, was taking pictures of wading birds as dozens of tiny sandpiper and plovers began swirling into the spartina grass. I could only identify the easily distinguished shorebird species, given my waning energy level, the low light and a very wobbly borrowed tripod. I ran into Don Riepe and Cindy Goulder making end of day rounds of the refuge. Don asked if I’d seen a Western Sandpiper for the day, which I hadn’t. He joked that there was probably one among the thousands of birds coming in on the rising tide. I wasn’t going to even bother looking. A few moments later he pointed out a Peregrine Falcon patrolling over the marsh. I told him that I planned to stay at the refuge until the woodcocks began calling. In truth, I wasn’t sure that I would make it that long.
It was 7:50pm when I decided that a hot shower and big meal was more important than ”one more check“ on my day list. I packed up my gear, put on a jacket and rode south, to the Broad Channel ”A“ train station. During the short ride to Noel Street, I learned one of the reasons why so many birds stop off at that part of Queens during migration; insects. I swear it felt like a million insects bounced off my face as I pedaled to the subway, and ”no“, those particular bugs didn't make a very good appetizer. It turned out that, because the train took so long to arrive, I probably could have just stayed at the refuge and waited for the woodcocks. Oh well. As I stood on the platform, in what is likely the quietest station in the entire NYC subway system, I amused myself by watching a raccoon scavenging for food at the edge of the track. He obviously didn’t know about Tommy's Pizza.
Prospect Park (1), Green-Wood Cemetery (2), Shore Road Greenway (3), Calvert Vaux Park (4), Sheepshead Bay (5), Plum Beach (6), Floyd Bennett Field (7), Riis Park (8), Big Egg Marsh (9), JBWR (10), 4/20/2008
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1) Red-throated Loon (4.)
2) Double-crested Cormorant (1, 3, 4, 9, 10.)
3) Great Blue Heron (10.)
4) Great Egret (4, 6, 9, 10.)
5) Snowy Egret (7, 9.)
6) Little Blue Heron (10.)
7) Tricolored Heron (10.)
8) Black-crowned Night-Heron (4, 9, 10.)
9) Yellow-crowned Night-Heron (10.)
10) Glossy Ibis (10.)
11) Snow Goose (2.)
12) Canada Goose (2, 4, 9, 10.)
13) Brant (3, 4, 6, 7, 9, 10.)
14) Mute Swan (4, 5, 7, 10.)
15) Gadwall (10.)
16) American Wigeon (10.)
17) American Black Duck (4, 5, 6, 10.)
18) Mallard (1, 4, 5, 7, 9, 10.)
19) Greater Scaup (4, 10.)
20) Lesser Scaup (3, 5.)
21) Ruddy Duck (10.)
22) Osprey (4, 10.)
23) Red-tailed Hawk (7.)
24) Peregrine Falcon (10.)
25) Ring-necked Pheasant (4, 7.)
26) Clapper Rail (6, 9.)
27) Black-bellied Plover (9, 10.)
28) Semipalmated Plover (4, 9, 10.)
29) Piping Plover (8.)
30) Killdeer (4.)
31) American Oystercatcher (6, 8, 9, 10.)
32) Greater Yellowlegs (10.)
33) Lesser Yellowlegs (10.)
34) Willet (6, 7, 9, 10.)
35) Spotted Sandpiper (4.)
36) Ruddy Turnstone (6, 9.)
37) Sanderling (6, 8.)
38) Semipalmated Sandpiper (6, 9, 10.)
39) Least Sandpiper (6, 9, 10.)
40) Purple Sandpiper (3.)
41) Dunlin (9.)
42) Short-billed Dowitcher (9, 10.)
43) Laughing Gull (4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10.)
44) Ring-billed Gull (4.)
45) Herring Gull (4, 7, 10.)
46) Great Black-backed Gull (4, 6, 7, 10.)
47) Common Tern (6, 10.)
48) Forster's Tern (6, 10.)
49) Least Tern (6.)
50) Black Skimmer (6.)
51) Rock Pigeon (1, 4.)
52) Mourning Dove (1, 4, 10.)
53) Monk Parakeet (2.)
54) Barn Owl (10.)
55) Chimney Swift (1, 10.)
56) Ruby-throated Hummingbird (10.)
57) Red-bellied Woodpecker (1.)
58) Downy Woodpecker (1.)
59) Hairy Woodpecker (1.)
60) Northern Flicker (1, 4, 7, 10.)
61) Least Flycatcher (1.)
62) Great Crested Flycatcher (1.)
63) Eastern Kingbird (1, 4, 6, 7, 10.)
64) White-eyed Vireo (7, 10.)
65) Blue-headed Vireo (4.)
66) Warbling Vireo (1, 4.)
67) Red-eyed Vireo (1, 4.)
68) Blue Jay (1.)
69) American Crow (4, 10.)
70) Fish Crow (7.)
71) Tree Swallow (4, 7, 10.)
72) Northern Rough-winged Swallow (10.)
73) Bank Swallow (7.)
74) Barn Swallow (4, 5, 6, 7, 10.)
75) Black-capped Chickadee (1.)
76) Tufted Titmouse (1.)
77) Carolina Wren (1, 7.)
78) House Wren (1, 4.)
79) Veery (1.)
80) Swainson's Thrush (1.)
81) Hermit Thrush (1.)
82) Wood Thrush (1.)
83) American Robin (1, 4, 7, 10.)
84) Gray Catbird (1, 4, 7, 10.)
85) Northern Mockingbird (4, 7, 10.)
86) Brown Thrasher (4, 7, 10.)
87) European Starling (1, 4, 7, 10.)
88) Cedar Waxwing (4.)
89) Nashville Warbler (1.)
90) Northern Parula (1, 10.)
91) Yellow Warbler (1, 4, 6, 7, 10.)
92) Chestnut-sided Warbler (1.)
93) Magnolia Warbler (1, 10.)
94) Cape May Warbler (1.)
95) Black-throated Blue Warbler (1.)
96) Yellow-rumped Warbler (7, 10.)
97) Black-throated Green Warbler (1.)
98) Blackburnian Warbler (1.)
99) Blackpoll Warbler (1.)
100) Cerulean Warbler (1.)
101) Black-and-white Warbler (1.)
102) American Redstart (1.)
103) Ovenbird (1.)
104) Northern Waterthrush (1.)
105) Common Yellowthroat (1, 6.)
106) Scarlet Tanager (1.)
107) Northern Cardinal (1, 4, 7, 10.)
108) Rose-breasted Grosbeak (1, 4.)
109) Eastern Towhee (2, 6, 10.)
110) Chipping Sparrow (1.)
111) Savannah Sparrow (7.)
112) Song Sparrow (4, 7, 10.)
113) Swamp Sparrow (10.)
114) White-throated Sparrow (1.)
115) Red-winged Blackbird (4, 7, 10.)
116) Common Grackle (1, 4, 7.)
117) Boat-tailed Grackle (6, 10.)
118) Brown-headed Cowbird (1, 4, 10.)
119) Orchard Oriole (4.)
120) Baltimore Oriole (1, 4, 7, 10.)
121) House Finch (4, 10.)
122) American Goldfinch (1, 4, 7.)
123) House Sparrow (1, 4, 7.)
by Rob Jett for "The City Birder"
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