The clock of the seasons keeps ticking away, whether we are paying attention or not. There are signs all around us that will tell us what season we are in, but you have to pay very close attention to interpret them correctly. Some signs are very subtle and will require great skill and experience to get right. Others are not the slightest bit subtle, but because they can be quiet, they can still be a little tricky. I have been working at reading the signs of the seasons for decades and there is still something to learn every day.

As an example: Anyone who is a fan of fireflies should have noticed by now that they have gone dark for the year. This was a spectacular season for fireflies, but a great many evenings were “ruined” by rain in July and we might not have spent a great deal of time seeing them. As a result, we may not have really noticed when they disappeared. It turns out that marking the arrival of a particular animal (whether it be bird or insect) is much easier than discerning the last time you saw one. They just seem to fade away, which makes it difficult to figure out when they actually disappeared.

Days spent in my Thinking Chair have allowed me to collect enough evidence to now officially declare that we have entered that time of year that I have named, “The Wandering.” This is the time of year when birds that hatched this year have generally grown enough to be independent from their parents, but are not yet ready to migrate. I would equate this time in a bird’s life to that of a teenaged human who is going to take a year and go abroad before heading off to college. Crocodile Dundee called it, “Going Walkabout.” It is a time to explore new places.

This can generate some amazing opportunities for birders, because young birds of all sorts are starting to fan out across the landscape; sometimes showing up in the most unlikely places. Down in my Thinking Chair, where I have memorized every twig and branch, I am often visited by young birds who are quite curious about what the ruckus is all about. They come in, paying close attention to the activity unfolding around me and they often seem quite unafraid. But there is a very good reason for this.

The black-capped chickadees that visit me at the Thinking Chair are absolutely fearless. There is currently a family of 6 or 7 birds and there are times when they are literally crawling all over me. One might land on my head, another on my knee and a third will land on the lip of my coffee mug all at the same time. With such boldness and comfort in my presence, I truly think that the chickadees put other birds at ease. I can’t really be all that dangerous if the chickadees are landing on me, right?

So it came as little surprise when an immature common yellowthroat (Geothlypistrichas) approached me the other day. Black-capped chickadees, white-breasted nuthatches, eastern towhees song sparrows were all visiting the small feeding platform that I planted about 12 feet in front of the Thinking Chair and the young warbler seemed drawn in by the commotion. “What’s going on over here?” the little bird seemed to say.

The common yellowthroat is a species that breeds in my meadow, so encountering an immature bird makes perfect sense. However, the behavior of the young bird is so much different than the behavior of the adults. Adult birds generally live with purpose. In spring they migrate, they set up territories, they attract mates, they raise young. After that particular ordeal is over, the adults seem interested only in foraging for food for themselves.

So it is only the young of the year that seem to approach out of curiosity. I’ve been scolded by young house wrens for the simple fact that I exist. I’ve been closely scrutinized by young gray catbirds, who appear to be suspicious of everyone and everything. Young towhees seem surprised by everything, and young song sparrows can be quite shy. But it’s the young warblers that seem to exhibit the most pure curiosity and I am preparing myself for the bounty of the season to present itself to me. All I have to do is keep the chickadees well fed.

August is upon us and the weather has been sublime. I’ve already heard my first cricket of the year and as the days continue to shorten there will be more and more opportunity to stay up and see the stars. Birds in the Central Flyway are already heading south out of Canada and the southern migration is about to get underway here in the east. If you have a moment to get outside, take advantage of it.

Look skyward for hawks and vultures, scan the treetops for flycatchers and search the underbrush for sparrows, towhees and warblers. They’re out there! You just need to look for them.

Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 26 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the US Forest Service, the Nature Conservancy and the Massachusetts State Parks and he currently teaches high school biology and physics. For more in formation visit his website at www.speakingofnature.com, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.

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