The Audubon's Warbler

One disturbing event on our crossing of the Sea of Cortez.

About 1500 (3:00pm) on November 19, out in the middle of freakin’ nowhere, we heard a little bird twittering. Looking around, I saw the critter, in a tiny flash of yellow, black and white: an Audubon's warbler. Heading east from the Baja peninsula.  This is a land bird, people, and it was 45 miles offshore Baja on the Sea of Cortez. The poor thing was horribly lost, obviously tired, and looking for a place to land. The only “land,” being our boat which was motorsailing east, away from shore.

Audubon’s warblers are small and high-strung. They get nervous around movement of any kind (flapping sails, rolling boats, people) and this one was no exception. It* landed on deck for only a few seconds before getting startled and flying away. This went on for over half an hour; each time the warbler flew off it flew lower and lower above the water - but each time it landed on the Fox it stayed a few seconds longer and investigated the nooks and crannies on deck. I was hoping it would stay with us the whole night, find a snug spot under some of the sails we had stowed on the deck, get rest, and hitch a ride all the way into Mazatlan.

Eventually the warbler grew confident enough to fly down our open hatch into the cabin. It investigated several likely spots to rest, and ended up perching on the clock we have mounted on the bulkhead above our nav station. Poor thing was clearly beat. To the point that even GB put out some water in a shallow cup in hopes it would take a drink and rest a spell. I was still hoping the bird would just stay put - like a parrot would. But, at about 1630 (4:30pm) the inevitable happened: one of us moved, the warbler got hysterical, and casting a final backward glance at me, flew off - back toward Baja, now over 60 miles away.

It would soon be dark, an exhausted land bird was making a break toward the setting sun, flying blindly more miles over open water than I believe it could. Lost, frightened, fatigued, a small creature alone in the vastness - making a desperate break for a known safe haven too distant instead of recognizing the refuge closer to hand - it all felt too familiar and human.

My heart broke.

* likely female, but my birding skills are not very excellent.

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