On September 17, 2024, I was experiencing an almost unheard-of phenomenon—I was pissed off while birding (or POWB). The source of my grumpiness was my then-nemesis bird, the Connecticut Warbler, the secretive skulker who had eluded me since I began birding daily in the spring of 2020. For five years I chased and dipped on that miserable bird, and for five years I was a pretty good sport about it, dismissing my futility with a laugh and a shrug. That’s birding, after all, and birding is not for the impatient.
So I was content to chase, dip, laugh, and shrug until, one fall morning at Beechwood Farms Nature Reserve, after one dip too many, it just wasn’t funny anymore.
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Why September 17th was my breaking point, I’ll never know, but I did then what I did with all my bird-related thoughts and feelings—I took them to bird Twitter. I was going to purge my frustration by taking another hike and insulting every bird I saw with the most savage Tweet I could muster (if you’re currently in your right mind and not on Twitter, someone saw fit to post the entire thread on Reddit).
Thirty-five insults later, I felt better. I also noticed one bird in particular had been double tapped.
I’ve since tracked down a Connecticut Warbler, and 552 days after my epic rant, I feel I owe Eastern Phoebes not just apology, but also a paean of a Substack post. The truth is, I adore Sayornis phoebe, and it’s with great anticipation that I begin listening for their eponymous (and, yes, shrill and repetitive) song every spring, roughly around the ides of March. Trust me, there’s no POWB when I have this conversation each year:
Eastern Phoebe: FEE-bee!
Nate: Well, hello there! Welcome back!
EP: FEE-bee! FEE-bee!
Nate: Yes, yes, that’s it. Keep telling us your fucking name.
March 15th is early in songbird migration, but Phoebes aren’t typically the first migrant to show up every spring. That would be a trio of representatives from the blackbird family.
But Phoebes are never far behind, the first flycatchers to arrive from their wintering grounds in the southern United States and eastern Mexico. Their migration will set no records for long-distance travel, but don’t take that to mean they’re lazy. They’re energetic insect-eaters who spend all day sallying out from their perches to catch a meal and bobbing their tails up and down, one of my favorite behavioral traits and something I could have easily ridiculed in my Tweet, it now occurs to me.
This year I heard my first Fee-bee! on March 11th. The morning was gray and the bird didn’t care to be photographed in a flattering way. Of more interest was staking out some prime nesting ground. Turns out there were two Phoebes on the scene, and I enjoyed watching them duke it out for territorial supremacy. Whether or not Eastern Phoebes are typical in that the males migrate ahead of the females to claim their nesting turf, I don’t know. Phoebes aren’t sexually dimorphic, so my guess that these were two males is just that—a guess.
Having chased off its rival, the victor takes a moment to 1) revel in triumph and 2) scoff at an inferior opponent.
I was glad to see them, but March 11 seemed pretty early, even by Phoebe standards. That had me curious—was this my earliest-ever Phoebe sighting? I turned to eBird for the answer, and eBird told me nope!
2026 - March 11 (Allegheny Co, PA)
2025 - March 13
2024 - March 8
2023 - March 22
2022 - March 31 (Ingham Co, MI)
2021 - March 31
2020 - June 1 (started birding on May 20)
2011 - May 12 (Tippecanoe Co, IN)
That Indiana sighting in 2011 represents my lifer Eastern Phoebe, an event I remember well. I was wrapping up a birdwalk with my dad at Celery Bog Nature Area in West Lafayette, Indiana when he pointed out a small, nondescript bird perched atop a wooden post. In the throes of warbler fever, I didn’t give the Phoebe much thought, except to note how plain it was and how neat that my dad could so readily identify such a plain bird.
Plain bird? I suppose flashy bird enthusiasts like my former self could easily dismiss an Eastern Phoebe as plain. Or drab. Arrayed without fuss in grayish-brown and white and lacking even the wing bars and eye rings that decorate many other eastern flycatchers. My current self, less obsessed with pops of color, sees subtle beauty and elegance in the Phoebe. Soft, warm hues in place of crass obviousness and blatant overtrying (looking at you, Painted Bunting).
What I didn’t know (and evidently wasn’t curious about) back in 2011 is that the Eastern Phoebe is one of three phoebe species in North America (Say’s Phoebe and Black Phoebe being the western cousins) and one of more than 400 new-world tyrant flycatchers spread across North and South America. I didn’t know how adaptable Eastern Phoebes are to human activity, and that they’ll gladly nest where humans build a house or a barn or a bridge. I didn’t know that, in an age of declining songbird populations, Eastern Phoebes have been busy cozying up to human development and increasing their numbers over the past 60 years. In light of such resourcefulness, perhaps I was too quick to denounce their intelligence?
They also seem partial to the local culinary scene. Each year they eschew the national chains to set up shop near Mineo’s, a Pittsburgh pizza institution since 1958.
I love a good birding challenge, and the Eastern Phoebe does have a lookalike that overlaps its range. The Eastern Wood-Pewee is another tyrant flycatcher that is similar in size and similarly colored.
But whereas a Phoebe will readily come and hang with you at eye level, Eastern Wood-Pewees mostly stick to the treetops, where they announce their spring arrival two months later with their own eponymous song, the sweet and melodious Pee-a-weeeeeeee! Need another ID clue? Don’t look for a tail bob in a Pewee. That move was trademarked long ago by the Phoebe, and Phoebes are famously lawyered up.
As March crawls to an end, Eastern Phoebes are back in force. That means Baltimore Orioles can’t be far behind. I’ll be on the lookout for Northern Rough-winged Swallows and Chipping Sparrows too. None of these birds are the darlings of migration, but unlike the wood warblers, here for a cup of Joe and a smoke, these nesting birds will pair up and breed and give us something special to observe over the summer, like in the featured photo below👇
In the meantime, I hope Eastern Phoebes (and 34 other innocent birds) will accept my apologies. My wrath was misdirected.
As for you, Connecticut Warbler, here’s a double tap I won’t apologize for, coming at you Pittsburgh-style.
I took this photo of an immature Eastern Phoebe in August of 2023. The bird is scraggly as hell and just as overwhelmed by it all, but look at the yellow feathers filling in. Soon this youngster will have a yellowish wash on the belly that makes a fall Phoebe glow in a way that they don’t in early spring.
That’s all for this week. Have you seen an Eastern Phoebe yet this year? What’s your favorite flycatcher? Have you ever been POWB? Was a bird the source of your anger? Leave a comment. Let’s talk👇
Until next time, happy migration, and don’t forget to bird your ass off!
nwb ♎︎
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This post was human generated. All media by Nathaniel Bowler, except the GIF and the Sibley drawings.
Developmental edits by Alexandra Hidalgo.
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