In southern New York, it often seems like winter ends long before spring begins. I am personally a big fan of birding and spending time outdoors during the colder months, and everyone appreciates the energy and excitement of peak migration, but that quiet period in between can be a bit of an awkward transition. Even by the subdued standards of the season, the gradual onset of spring has felt especially protracted and drawn out this year. With much of the month plagued by lingering chill, unfavorable winds, and delayed rains, I knew I would need to put in some substantial effort to get my nature fix in March 2025. Nevertheless, I was determined not to let these challenging conditions stand in the way of checking off items on my preseason to-do list.
Initial signs of the approaching seasonal shift first started to appear fairly early in the month, even on the busy streets of New York City. Resident passerines like Northern Cardinals and Northern Mockingbirds began tuning up with renewed enthusiasm, declaring their territories with vigorous bouts of song. My birding surveys at Randall’s Island revealed similar increasing liveliness in our overwintering birds, including the Field and Chipping Sparrows that spent the season with the Dark-eyed Junco flock at the defunct driving range and the Northern House Wren and Orange-crowned Warbler who lingered at Little Hell Gate Saltmarsh with a band of Black-capped Chickadees. One of the principal harbingers of spring in our region is the ever endearing American Woodcock, and indeed my friends and I turned up a trio of these lovable weirdos during our first proper March outing at our patch. Woodcocks are quick to retreat when freezing temperatures lock their favored earthworms away beneath the frost line, but they are conversely among the first species to return north each year at the onset of the thaw. In spite of the brisk, breezy conditions that morning, the strange shorebirds bobbing along through the undergrowth were an unambiguous indicator that warmer weather was on its way.
The frequency of my rooftop skywatching efforts picked up in earnest this month, but for the most part my observations were limited to small flocks of Canada Geese, American Robins, and other common birds, occasionally supplemented by stray flyovers of species like Wood Duck, Rusty Blackbird, and Black Vulture. On days when fickle fate failed to deliver any meaningful migration activity, I was especially grateful for the company of my most reliable avian neighbors. Our local pair of American Kestrels has been hard at work preparing for a new nesting season, canoodling more or less constantly and following one another around as they patrol the neighborhood. I was particularly delighted to observe the male caching surplus food away for later, stowing a decapitated mouse in the seams of a deck chair atop the building across the street. The resident Common Ravens have also been more active and conspicuous in recent weeks, with one of the burly black birds even joining me on the roof for a spell to avoid the irksome attentions of an agitated American Crow. While I confess to getting a bit antsy while I wait for spring migration to hit its stride, I am nevertheless grateful for the consistent, dependable presence of my beloved local birds. The day that I fail to crack a smile at the goofy, lovesick Mourning Dove singing a few feet away from me is the day that I hang up my binoculars.
As winter’s grip on the land slowly starts to loosen, many birds begin shuffling around a bit, making short-distance repositioning trips as they gear up for the long-haul flights to their nesting grounds. A rather blustery guided walk with the New York State Young Birders Club at Jones Beach was highlighted by a newly arrived flock of Tree Swallows, and we also encountered some Horned Larks performing song flights over the dunes. A flyover American Pipit at Randall’s Island and a pair of Canvasbacks at West Harlem Piers Park also fell into this category of restless early wanderers that had presumably wintered relatively close by. This time of year is a bit underrated as a productive window for detecting rarities that have recently vacated hidden haunts, and I would not be surprised if the next few weeks have some unexpected discoveries in store for birders who get out there and search.
The official vernal equinox landed on the 20th this year, but March 22nd was the first day that felt, to me, like spring had finally arrived. The skies were blue and the sun was shining brightly, producing a vibrant circumzenithal arc in the wispy clouds overhead. Adam and I savored the warm winds that blew across the fields of Randall’s Island that morning, and it quickly became apparent that these sudden southerlies had ushered in a number of new arrivals. Our first Eastern Phoebe of the year was seen flycatching from the trees along the roadside, and we also picked out a trio of American Oystercatchers making circuits around the Brother Islands. Perhaps the biggest surprise of the morning was an adult Black-headed Gull, decked out in handsome breeding plumage, that we spotted flying upriver early in the morning. At the end of a long, cold winter, however, there is only one bird that I trust as the unquestionable herald of the advent of spring. Sure enough, during our second check of the northeastern shoreline, I finally clapped eyes on the familiar, crook-winged silhouette of a distant Osprey circling its way northwards. The return of these perennially popular raptors to the waterways of coastal New York unfailingly coincides with the palpable shift in seasons each year, and I was genuinely thrilled to welcome these long-time favorites home with my first observation of the species in 2025. At long last, spring is here!
The most productive and memorable outing of the month brought me to the outskirts of Queens with my friends Ryan and Max. My Brooklyn-based buddies had both expressed interest in searching for salamanders this spring, and I was all too happy to share my recently rekindled passion for these charming denizens of the forest floor. An overnight dip in temperatures resulted in a chillier morning than we might have liked, but we set out undeterred all the same, gently flipping promising looking logs as we trudged through the woods. We eventually stumbled upon a patch of forest that, for reasons unclear to our surface-dweller sensibilities, hosted an impressively dense concentration of Eastern Red-backed Salamanders. Focusing our efforts on this productive plot, we quickly struck gold when Max uncovered not one, but two Spotted Salamanders and a bonus Red-back under a single piece of wood. The remarkable migration of these strikingly patterned amphibians typically takes place during the first warm rains of late winter, but the comparatively dry conditions this year appear to have stalled the salamanders’ pilgrimage to their vernal pool breeding grounds. Although the water level of these temporary wetlands was still a bit low, it was clear that the local wildlife were starting to prepare for peak season. In addition to the salamanders staging nearby, we also observed a pair of prospecting Wood Ducks and heard the song of a lone Wood Frog ringing through the crisp morning air. Of course, the promise of adding Spotties to Ryan and Max’s life lists was the original impetus for this quest, and I was relieved that our targeted foray into this hidden world eventually ended in success. The awestruck reactions that inevitably accompany an introduction to these secretive, spectacular creatures are always a privilege to behold.
The next stop on our tour of the City’s little-known natural marvels was an unassuming tract of woodland located a mere stone’s throw from a busy expressway. This time it was Ryan’s turn to lead the way, guiding us down a sloping trail to the base of a truly massive Tulip Tree. Standing more than 130 feet tall, the Alley Pond Giant is believed to be the largest and oldest living organism in NYC today. It is estimated that this mighty tree has stood watch over this corner of Queens for over 350 years, presumably taking root not too long after Dutch settlers first arrived on these shores. As we gazed up in wonder at the gnarled limbs of the magnificent plant, we pondered how many species of birds must have landed amidst its branches over the centuries. It well may be that the Giant even served as a perch for now extinct species like Passenger Pigeons or Carolina Parakeets once upon a time. It is incredible to consider how much the landscape has changed during the lifespan of this tree, which could persist for several centuries more if it remains adequately protected. Perhaps if we take our stewardship of our local green spaces seriously, some of the young saplings currently growing up throughout NYC will be able to boast similarly impressive tenures someday.Â
We closed out our delightful nature walk with a bit of fully focused birding. Highlights from the last leg of our expedition included a Great Horned Owl and its nestling peering out of their tree hollow nest, a flock of Rusty Blackbirds picking their way through a woodland wetland, and an adorable Pied-billed Grebe that let loose with a burst of manic, whooping song, an unexpected audio lifer for all three of us. We took a few moments to revel in the sight of an Osprey turning graceful circles high overhead, triumphantly announcing its return from the tropics with piercing, whistled chirps. My friends and I celebrated our successful expedition with a hearty lunch, returning to our respective homes satisfied with the haul of early spring treasures we had managed to collect.
Between the woodcocks, the salamanders, and the Ospreys, I have now completed most of my expected naturalist objectives for the month of March. At this point, the next chapter of spring is right around the corner, and I can already feel the increased activity levels in the natural world around us. While early April may not be all too different from the end of March, the final stretch of the month is when migration finally kicks into overdrive. The coming weeks are certain to host their share of welcome reunions and unexpected surprises both. I fully intend to make the most of this exciting new phase of the spring season, whatever it may have in store.