Ralph Gardner Jr. finally catches a glimpse of Prospect Park’s now famous painted bunting
It took two tries. But I finally got to see Prospect Park’s now famous painted bunting.
For those who are unfamiliar with the bird, allow me to quote from Roger Tory Peterson’s “Field Guide to the Birds East of the Rockies.”
Mr. Peterson possesses an unembellished eloquence, rising to poetry, when it comes to bird descriptions. “The most gaudily colored North American songbird,” the entry states simply. “Male: A little finch the size of a Chipping Sparrow, with a patchwork of blue-violet on head, green on back, red on rump and underparts.”
But more arresting than the description is the accompanying image. It pops out on a page whose other denizens aren’t exactly slouches when it comes to the color spectrum.
There’s the blue grosbeak—a deep, dull blue with broad tan wing bars—as well as the Indigo bunting and Lazuli bunting.
I grew up in the city. Pretty much the only birds I could identify were pigeons. I didn’t know the difference between a blue jay and a bluebird.
But when I started spending more time upstate after college and invested in the Peterson guide, I always paused to admire the image of the painted bunting, but never believed I’d get to see one in real life.
And then to hear it had been spotted in Prospect Park the last weekend of November sounded nearly impossible. The bird’s range is the southern U.S. to northeast Mexico. It winters in Florida, Cuba, the Bahamas and Central America.
ENLARGEThe last time a painted bunting was seen in Brooklyn was 1999 and that was a female, as drab as the male is colorful.
My first attempt to spot the bird occurred on Dec. 2 when I happened to be reporting a story on the reintroduction of Prospect Park’s chestnut trees.
But it was drizzling and almost dark by the time I reached the LeFrak Center, where the bird has been seen and the plantings provide a cornucopia of choice bird victuals.
However, neither the painted bunting nor the hundreds of birders who have flocked to witness his one-man show, were anywhere in sight.
I feared the bird might have departed for good. But he was spotted again in the following days, including by my older daughter the next weekend.
Even if I never got to see the bunting, I could take some comfort that I’ve raised a child who gets almost as excited about birds as I do.
I returned to the park on Friday, accompanied by a ringer—Rob Bate, president of the Brooklyn Bird Club—to help me locate the specimen.
The weather wasn’t any more promising than during my first visit. However, we saw a couple of European goldfinch, a pretty colorful bird in its own right.
But a few minutes later word arrived that the painted bunting had been observed along the path that runs behind the LeFrak Center.
We hurried over.
And there it was in all its garish grandeur, an aerodynamic Monet. Noshing amid the snakeroot and goldenrod as if on a Brooklyn bagel with a schmear.
Keir Randall, a local birder, had been the first to spot the visitor, tweeting on Nov. 29, “Male painted bunting at prospect just south of ice rink. Can’t see band but can’t rule it out yet.”
Mr. Bate explained: “He doesn’t know if it was like the European goldfinch, a released bird. People were able to determine it was an actual vagrant.”
Meaning one whose internal GPS might have been askew, and turned north when he should have been heading south for the winter.
Also, if Mr. Randall’s sighting had been a false alarm and birders, such as the businessman who visited during a seven-hour layover at La Guardia Airport, started arriving from all over, “his name would be mud,” Mr. Bate said. “But it was found,” again, “a couple of hours later.”
There was also a scare from a feral cat found prowling in the vicinity. “He didn’t know it was a famous bird,” Mr. Bate said. “It was just instinctively hunting.”
The feline was trapped and relocated by the Prospect Park Alliance. “Tragedy averted,” Mr. Bate explained.
The painted bunting may well hang out in the park all winter. Food certainly seems abundant enough. And he may even be enjoying his 15 minutes of fame.
“The first few days he seemed very skittish,” Mr. Bate said. “He’d flush, and it would be a couple of hours before anyone could find him. He’s gotten used to people.”
—ralph.gardner@wsj.com