Below freezing temperatures and snow showers is not what most people have in mind when they think of spring warblers. But I decided to test the waters last Sunday (April 24).

I had been monitoring warblers and other spring migrants at Balsam Mountain Preserve since early April. By Saturday, April 23, a dozen species of warblers had been recorded at BMP. I was curious to see what kind of effect this “Dogwood winter” might have on the new arrivals.

I arrived at the preserve at 8 a.m. It was 30 degrees, windy and blowing snow. The first stop was very quiet. I heard only a couple of residents, Carolina chickadee and eastern towhee. The day before that stop was alive with warblers – chestnut-sided, ovenbird, hooded and American redstart.

I pressed on and somewhat to my surprise I heard my first warbler of the day at 8:25 a.m., a blackburnian. He was singing from right over the road and when I stopped my auto and got out, I had great looks. There is something surreal about seeing Audubon’s “firethroat” singing lustily in a backdrop of falling snow.

A little deeper in the woods, I could see birds flitting between two large hemlocks. These turned out to be chickadees, but as I glassed them I also saw other movement and found a male northern parula foraging in a nearby oak. The parula was silent but I also heard blue-headed vireos at this stop. A little bit farther down the road and I once again heard blackburnians and blue-headeds, but this time they were joined by a black-and-white warbler.

By 9 a.m. the wind was really gusting making it even more difficult to hear birds. I moved to a more sheltered area and immediately the bird life increased. I heard black-and-whites, ovenbirds and rose-breasted grosbeaks singing.

The next migrant I saw was a first-of-the-year bird at BMP – a veery. This beautiful little thrush was not making a peep as it foraged along the edge of Sugarloaf road.

The snow seemed to bring a lot of ground feeding birds to the roads throughout the preserve. I saw several small groups of wild turkeys, numerous robins, about seven more veerys and one wood thrush along the roads.

Veerys generally nest around 4,000 feet and higher in the Southern Appalachians. I decided to take a turn through some of the higher elevations to see if any of these new migrants were headed to nesting territory. It was about 9:45 a.m. and snowing rather briskly and it was cold (mid 20s) up there.

Things were pretty quiet at the higher elevations. I did find one more veery in the road at about 4,700 feet. The only migrant heard singing/calling at these higher elevations was the blue-headed vireo. The day before had been quite different with chestnut-sided warblers, black-throated blue warblers, black-throated green warblers, black-and-white warblers, northern parulas, scarlet tanagers and rose-breasted grosbeaks all being heard along Upper Preserve road.

By 11 a.m. things were quiet throughout the preserve. As I started down towards the gate I checked the temperature. It was 24 degrees. I rounded a curve and found a flurry of activity. There was a mixed flock of towhees (7), numerous juncos, several chickadees and titmice, one downy woodpecker and the ubiquitous blue-headed vireo all along a brushy, wet roadside.

After that there was nothing until I was almost back to the gatehouse. Through the slightly cracked window, above the hum of the heater I heard the “weeesy-weesy-weesy” of a black-and-white warbler. When I stopped and got out, I heard one song from a black-throated green and one song from an American redstart, but then they were gone. A singing worm-eating warbler hung around, however, and let me get good looks.

As conspicuous as the signing “snow” birds was the lack of song from other migrants I know are present on the property. I did not hear any black-throated blues, hoodeds, chestnut-sideds or scarlet tanagers.

Being human and cursed with the “why” gene, I wrestled with plausible explanations. The best I could come up with was this. Most of the birds I heard singing were early returnees to BMP. Perhaps these guys have already staked out territories and are obligated by Ma Nature to point that out by singing. The other migrants had no such extra-territorial duties and were content to simply forage and try to stay warm on such a raw cold day.

Or maybe not.

(Don Hendershot can be reached at ddihen@earthlink.net.)