Finding bobolinks in a grassy field is only a bit less difficult than finding a needle in a haystack. At seven inches they are bigger than a needle but are all but invisible in a very large field in Stillwell Woods.

The male bobolink has a black body with white on its rump and along the sides. The back of its head and neck ranges from a brown mustard color to a brighter shade of yellow. This coloring makes them difficult to find in this suburban field, which is dotted with dandelions on which they feed. Bobolinks stay in groups but react to people as do the rich and famous to the paparazzi: they flee at the sight of us. Ironically it is this sudden and unexpected flight, which makes them visible.

At Stillwell Woods one afternoon in early May I joined a small group of birders to look for bobolinks. This is about the time of year they arrive, having flown some 5,000 miles from their wintering grounds in Southern Brazil and Northern Argentina to the Northern US to feed and establish territories in places like this large field in Syosset. We didn't know if they were there or exactly where they might be as we walked the field like cowboys blindly groping to find and herd them. After a while, with no warning the bobolinks suddenly upped and flew right before our eyes winging into the distance like old-time fighter planes. At first one or two appeared, followed by two small groups totaling about 15 males. They flew in a bobbing motion and first went to a further section of the field, later into the trees and finally into the forest. Would the females be coming later or would the males move on before their arrival?

Later that week my wife and I went there to find them again. As we were walking a group leapt up from the grass and flew off but didn't go too far, landing in a tree near the edge of the field. They perched on branches swaying in the breeze. Off in the distance, flapping its wings and getting larger every second was a sooty colored hawk. Was it looking for lunch and would bobolink be on the menu? The birds didn't scatter and the hawk turned away flying into the gray afternoon. I breathed a sigh of relief. My wife thought and I later read that the birds' colors allow it to blend in with wildflowers and also help protect it from hawks.

Then one bobolink did a 180-degree turn over the field. The bird landed with its head visible above the grass. For the next several minutes, through my scope, we watched the bird pluck white dandelion seed heads. One stayed matted to the bird's head as it munched away. A tiny coal black eye was intermittently visible. That eye however never seemed to look at us although the bird couldn't help but be aware of us standing no more than 60 feet from it. My wife and I talked in a whisper so as not to scare it off. Looking up after jotting down some notes I see that there are now two bobolinks there. The second one seemed to be standing guard. I was bewildered: Had it been there all along or just materialized out of nowhere?

Two days later walking in the grass, my boots and socks soaked from the prior day's rain, I found the birds again. About 15 male bobolinks were in the same tree looking as colorful as tropical birds. Their thin black bills were open and moving but I couldn't tell if they were singing. The trees that ringed the field were alive with the sweet songs of unseen birds. I was beginning to get a feel for the bobolinks but knew that the number of days I'd have to watch them was numbered. The grass was the key. Soon it would be warm and ticks would make walking through the grass dangerous. I also didn't know if this field was where they would mate and nest or if it was a temporary spot.

Alone late one afternoon looking for the bobolinks I saw nothing and believed that perhaps they'd gone. While trudging the last part of the field, a bobolink close to me leapt up. It went toward a clump of grasses and disappeared only to appear and repeat the process several times. As dandelion stems snapped back and forth I knew where it was eating. But when the dandelion stems stopped moving I had had no clue where the bird was.

Hoping to flush it, I started to walk. The bird flew out of the grass almost on a straight line to a tall bush about 40 feet away, giving me the best view I'd had all week of any bobolink. I could see the tiny feathers on its brown mustard neck and the white on its side and rump, which indeed had looked like a first coat of paint at a distance. Now black and gray clearly showed beneath the white. The bird looked around very nervously for a while and then disappeared into the trees. I knew that I wasn't likely to come back again before the grass got high and perhaps see them court females. So I silently thanked the bird for affording me this good view and walked back to my car. But I'll be back next year.