Words and Photos by Beth Marlin Lichter
I think the boardwalk has made me a better birder and maybe even a better human? After a week of walking it, I feel somehow lighter…like the spirit of a thousand birds went flying through my body, teaching me lessons about fortitude, courage and determination.
I’m talking about the boardwalk at Magee Marsh on the edge of Lake Erie in Ohio, where the tiniest and most fragile looking puffs of feathers and beak, the warblers, stop to eat and rest before continuing along on their preposterously long and perilous spring migration journey. They are so close to their destination breeding grounds, the boreal forests of Canada, but first they must fly across the lake with hopefully, tail winds from the south.
My first two days of birding the boardwalk, May 13th and May 14th, 2026, were nothing short of miraculous. Situated several feet above the wetlands and forest floor, with shrubs, trees and snags bordering both sides of the walkway, I found myself just after sunrise, in the midst of a foraging wave of multiple warbler species. They were new arrivals on a mission. Nothing, not even humans with cameras, perturbed or distracted them. Snatching insects from leaves and spiders from webs, they moved from tree to tree flying towards me, around me, eye level so close that occasionally a wing brushed the side of my face.
Northern Parulas, a wildly colorful warbler species residing mostly in tree canopies where moss is plentiful for nest-building, were feasting on the morning insect repast down low instead of their usual up high. Therefore, I had the rare opportunity of being adjacent to their activity, face-to-face. With precise launches towards prey, every catch boosts the energy storehouse required to traverse the nearly 10,000 square-mile tempest-prone, ice age remnant that is Lake Erie.
Still looking tidy and healthy after having flown so far already from his winter home, one finely plumaged male parula was having great success with bugs and caterpillars in a tree just a few feet from me. Did he come from a tropical island in the West Indies or Central America? Mexico? I wanted to express my most heartfelt admiration not only for his beauty, but for strength of character. Vigorous, astute, goal-oriented, indefatigable, skillful, confident, positive, hopeful, creative…this is how I would describe the little warbler’s behavior during the short time I was able to observe him. I hope he makes it across the lake and arrives safely where destiny leads him. Humans migrate, sacrifice all for new beginnings, experience deprivation and uncertainty. We have that in common. Maybe some of his exemplary qualities will infiltrate my being.
As I soon discovered, warblers might have been the main boardwalk attraction, but there was a wealth of other seasonal wildlife activity occurring there as well. Food sources were plentiful. Birds were pairing up, building nests, some were already sitting on eggs. There were goslings and fledglings and the level of parenting was off the charts, from the muddy forest floor to the tree with the eagles’ nest. For a few precious days I stood there in the center of this life cycle moment, taking it all in and hoping that I would come away with some photos that might convey my sense of awe and respect.
A pair of Green Herons was visible from the boardwalk, building a nest directly across the narrow channel, hanging a bit above the water. A kind birder who was watching them, stopped me as I was walking by and asked if I knew about the nest. I did not and thanked him profusely, as I quickly became obsessed with their careful collaboration as they put the finishing touches on their work.
The male flew into trees above my head and snapped off branches, then offered them to his mate, who helped with positioning. For this, they each took hold of an end and carefully navigated through their maze of many sticks, to find the perfect location.
Soon there was a blueish green egg in the nest and I observed that indeed the herons’ behavior had shifted from housekeeping to hatching mode. No more awkward pieces of wood being tossed around. The delicate business of successfully producing young ones had begun. I spent a lot of time at that spot on the boardwalk.
Tearing myself away from the heron family saga and wishing I could come back daily until the juveniles were flying about, just a little further down the boardwalk, four tiny robins were demanding food from their mother. She dug for worms repeatedly until her head and beak were streaked with mud. This nest was at knee level. Every day the chicks got a little bigger and by the end of my trip, they had fledged, gone. Good job, mama. Did not look easy.
Flashes of orange and black up high in the treetops alerted me to Baltimore Orioles, migrants who had arrived for breeding purposes. They don’t come down often to give you good looks. I had no hope of seeing one up close…until a male launched from a nearby limb and came towards me, one of many serendipitous occasions that kept me in a state of giddy euphoria.
On April 30, 1989, the Magee Marsh Bird Trail was officially dedicated, the boardwalk having been built by the Ohio Division of Wildlife. It was a brilliant solution to the trampling of feet along the already existing trail of sensitive marsh woodlot acreage. Thank you, Ohio, for preserving not only the land, but the experience we are privy to, as visitors.
A Chestnut-sided Warbler was moving through the wood
Foraging for insects an inch from where I stood
He looked at me I looked at him
A handsome little fellow
He bowed his head so I could see
His cap of flaming yellow