While Smartmom finished her iced coffee in front of the Montauk Club this morning, she noticed a man staring up at one of the tall tress that hangs over Eighth Avenue. When he came across the street, still staring up at the sky, she asked him what he was looking at.

"I think there’s a Nashville Warbler in the tree," he said. "I can’t see it but I hear it whistle. It’s very distinctive."

"Does it have a Nashville twang,?" Smartmom asked.

He didn’t laugh. But he didn’t seem particularly offended either. She looked up for a minute or so and tried to find the bird.

"There it is," the man said. "It’s in the middle there. It’s a yellow bird,"

Still, Smartmom couldn’t find the bird. He said she’d probably need binoculars to find it. She asked him if it was a rare sighting.

He said it was. Dressed  in denim from head to toe, the man was in his early 40’s not someone she would immediately identify as a birdwatcher.

And Smartmom knows all about them. Her father is an avid birdwatcher and used to take her to the Ramble in Central Park. She was never able to see the birds. Her father tried to teach her to use his binoculars. "Find the bird with your eyes, now press the binoculars to your eyes. It’s simple," he’d say.

But it wasn’t and she was never any good at it. Not being able to find birds, Smartmom found herself bored on these Central Park expeditions especially when her father got into long conversations with the other birdwatcher who wore sensible shoes and LL Bean vests.

"There is goes," the man on Eighth Avenue told her. And she saw it. The tiny yellow Nashville Warbler flew from one branch of the tree to another. It was delightful to see. A special treat for Monday morning. A wonderful way to start the day.