Montrose Point During Migration

Five miles north of the Loop on the Lakefront Trail. In May, the Magic Hedge — a dense thicket of honeysuckle and dogwood planted decades ago as part of a Cold War missile site — becomes one of the finest birding spots in North America. The missiles are gone. The birds claimed the infrastructure.

Arrived at six on a Wednesday in mid-May. Dozen species in ten minutes without binoculars. Baltimore oriole glowing orange in a crabapple tree. Magnolia warblers in nervous hops. Swainson's thrush singing that spiraling flute sound from somewhere invisible. The thrushes migrate at night and the hedge, surrounded by water and city, is the first green thing they see after crossing the lake. They pile in exhausted and the hedge vibrates with life for three weeks.

A woman with a spotting scope showed me a Connecticut warbler skulking in leaf litter — a bird so secretive that seeing one is a minor triumph. It looked at me with the expression of someone who'd been found and wasn't pleased. The best window is the first three weeks of May. Dawn. Binoculars. Walk slowly. The Magic Hedge is small — thirty minutes covers it — but on a good morning it feels like a lifetime.