The Year of The Chat

Every garden has surprises. Some are just more noticeable in winter.

 Yellow-Breasted Chat rests on our chair

“A yellow-breasted chat?” Mike, my bird-seed supplier repeated. I had just posted a picture of it online. “What’s he doing here in January?”


I had no idea what he was doing here, nor did I know that he wasn’t supposed to be here. A cursory glance through my bird field guide showed this little warbler is normally in Virginia during warm weather. By now, he should be in Central America – or at least winging his way.


But instead, he’s here. In my garden, brightening this dull weather with his impish charm and stunning yellow waistcoat. I first saw him January 10^th and did not recognize him. He had the color of a goldfinch, the movement of a wren, and the eye of a robin. After some quick research I found he was a chat. A yellow-breasted chat.

"I've never seen one," Mike went on. "What's he eating?" Mostly suet cake and Bark Butter, I said. But he likes those fruit-and-nut cylinders too. 

Not only was it unusual for a chat to still be here in January, but even in the warmth of summer, you're more likely to hear one than actually see one. The Cornell Lab says that chats like to skulk in low, thick brush. Another site claimed they’re shy, singular, and move furtively among vegetation.

Shy and furtive? Really? Not this guy. While he may feel more at home in low, thick brush, he doesn't have a problem sitting out in the open: on garden pots, 

at the feeders, 

and more recently, up on our deck. 

He’s been showing up at least twice a day, every day for three weeks now. At first, the other birds (sparrows, finches, cardinals, woodpeckers) would clear out as soon as the chat flew in. I don’t know if they were being snobbish, or they understood this was unusual and wanted to give the chat his space. But gradually, as the days moved into weeks, the usual crowd accepted his presence.

“You’ve been chosen,” my girlfriend Melanie proclaimed. “What an honor!”

I don’t know why this happy chat is here in the cold weather, or how I got so lucky. Maybe he's gone rogue, broke from the flock, and decided to take winter in Fauquier County, Virginia. Whatever the reason, I’m grateful for his time. I'm old enough to recognize a treat when I see one. And just forgetful enough to know next year I'll appreciate anything I might write down today; to always remember that this was my Year of the Chat. 

Chat with a friend (look closely)