Mid-summer in the mountains. It is a warm 85 degrees and the sun in intense. At dawn it was foggy and cool as usual. About nine o'clock the sun had dried out the lawn and turned the day toasty. Chuck had watered the garden areas where he planted the second crops of lettuce and beans last Friday. We are already enjoying the harvest of lettuce from the first crop and a bit of basil, coriander, and dill. The corn is already stately and thigh high. No major problems with pests. The dogs are always on patrol, but we still worry that some Peter Rabbit will elude them and find a way through the wire.

Chuck was to mow the lawn this morning in preparation for the holiday, but found the mower being loaded into the trailer for commercial duty. Our host's son is in the landscaping business. His more sophisticated machine is having electrical problems and the crew, it seems, borrows our machine when that happens. In any case, we have no plans to go out tomorrow. It is to be a lazy day at the farm, and Chuck won't mind mowing in the morning if the weather is suitable.

We do plan to go out tomorrow evening. Sylva has a big Fourth of July festival. The streets close when they are parked up, usually about 6 o'clock. The shops and restaurants will be open and country, blue grass, and popular musicians will perform until dark, and then the fireworks will begin on the lawn of the old courthouse.

The old courthouse is situate on a butress of King's Mouintain at the west end of Main Street about 100 steps above street level. It is square and white and the symbol of Jackson County. Illuminated at night it is always impressive. It makes an elegant backdrop to the fine fireworks display. We have enjoyed the party here on the fourth once before. We look forward to this year's festivities.

Last weekend found us out and about. We planned to bird on Saturday. We still have not spent a morning birding the Great Balsam range that is reached by the Blue Ridge Parkway twelve miles east from here. But at dawn we decided to to go a bit farther south in search of the rare and elusive Swainson's warbler. This is a strange little bird that was first discovered along the Carolina and Georga coast in canebrake thickets. Its lovely song, "sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet-sweet-sweet haunts the swamps. Some time later it was discovered that the bird also inhabits rhododendron thickets in stream gorges along the Appalachian escarpment. Chuck has long dreamed of finding it in this cooler and less buggy enviroment.

We had, in fact, seen this bird only once in of all places, New York City. An individual had overshot the Southeast in the spring of 2005 and spent a week in Forest Park of Queens. In this age of Internet Birding, Chuck had spied a report prior to a visit to Chappaqua for a shower for Samantha. Since, sadly, men still do not go to showers, he had to occupy himself during the event. He forced himself to go birding at the (birding) famous Jamaica Bay National Wildlife Refuge and also stopped at Forest Park. He had general directions, but the park is somewhat large. He also feared that parking would be a considerable problem.

It turned out that there was lots of parking at dawn on Saturday morning. There was a map on a board. He knew the bird had been seen near a pond. The map showed a trail going past a pond. He started walking. Joggers and bikers went by. He began to feel very foolish. How was he going to find a little bird in this big woods, if it was even still here. He walked about one hundred yards and went over a rise. Looking down he saw three people standing below looking through binoculars. He walked gently down the hill and behind them. "Do you have the bird," he asked.

"About fifty feet out, underneath a dogwood."

He spotted it and raised his glasses. There rolling leaves in the Big Apple was the Swainsons. Chuck savored the life bird for about five minutes, then went on to Jamaica Bay to look for spring birds there.

The success became an irritation for Anne, who had never seen this bird either. She wanted it. So, on Sunday, we returned to Pennsylvania via Queens. We parked and went down the trail. The bird was not where Chuck had seen it the day before, but we did not quit. We searched on not for the bird, but for the birders. We found them a bit further out. They had left the bird but gave specific directions. We found and savored excellent views of a bird that is usually only glimpsed in dense swamps. New York City birding at its best!

We looked for the bird later that season in its coastal habitat, at the Dismal Swamp in Virginia, but it eluded us there.

This time we choose to seek it in spectacular gorge of the Chattooga River along the North Carolina/South Carolina border. We walked some three miles up and down the beautiful stream past carved rock, waterfalls, and pools. We heard and saw hooded, worm-eating, black-throated blue, black-throated green, and ovenbird warblers. We played the song of the Swainson's from time to time, but elicited no response. Just as we returned to the car we heard another hooded warbler singing, and with it the richer song of the Swainsons. Anne picked it out. "Is that a Swainson's?"

We listened for a minute but the song faded. Chuck decided to play the recording a few times. No response. We waited a minute. Suddenly we were assaulted with mutliple "sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet-sweet-sweet's. The resident male was making it very clear that this was its territory. It flashed into view. We watched it circle and sing and then vanish again into the Rhododendrons. Mountain birding at its best!

On Sunday we bike hiked another section of the Appalachian Trail east of Hot Springs. The bike ride was almost twelve miles. It started with a two mile exhilerating descent and ended with a ten mile gradual ascent along a stream through forest and farm land. At the end, the road became somewhat steep as we reached Allen Gap and the trail. We parked the bikes in the woods and walked some nine miles through cool forest back to the car. We hope to complete all of trail from Roan Mountain south by the end of our time here. We have about one hundred miles left. We will backpack part of it including that across the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

That's all for now. Still having fun in Carolina.