High up in the canopy of freshly unfurled green leaves, there is now a little-known bird that is seldom seen but frequently heard. Even his song, though loud enough to carry a distance, is somehow gentle enough that it is often overlooked, lost among the spring cacophony of bird calls. Sometimes, if you are lucky, this little bird, known as the red-eyed vireo, leaves the treetops and allows you a quick glimpse.

A few days back, I witnessed a red-eyed vireo land on my deck in full view; it was a rare sight, because usually they are seen from a distance or through a pair of binoculars. He flew down from the high branches of a towering red oak, then flitted about my deck railing, and in an instant ascended back into the constellation of leaves. It was a thrill to see the actual source of such an inspiring song.

I love the song of this little bird, especially on those hot, lazy days when the summer has peaked and the other birds are too exhausted to sing. I listen carefully, and there it is, the far-away atmospheric song of the red-eyed vireo drifting down from the slow sway of the trees in the warm breeze. The male vireo keeps his music fresh and presents his repertoire of 40 different songs in a variety of ways. A red-eyed vireo can sing one song every second and a half and can sing a total of 22,197 songs in a single 24-hour period. If that’s not impressive enough, then consider the fact that the vireo never sings the same song consecutively, and each male has a unique repertoire, with no two birds singing alike.

They say the best way to find a vireo’s nest is by locating a singing male and following him to the female by watching where he goes when he stops singing. I have found that method impossible because vireos don’t typically sing from exposed perches and they are otherwise so well camouflaged in their drab olive plumage that finding even the singing male is incredibly difficult. Instead, it is easier to look directly for the female. Females do all the nest building and incubating so finding her is easier. Unlike the male, who spends his time high up the canopy, the female sometimes frequents the understory where she can be sighted with patience.

It took more than patience, however, to sight my resident vireo last year; it took an entire day of scouting around out back for her before she finally revealed herself. I couldn’t actually see the nest, but I narrowed it down to being somewhere near my shed. Somewhere up within the myriad new leaves sat her nest on an overhanging branch. There, safe from my human curiosity was her finely woven cup; it was a crafted work of art constructed with thin shreds of birch bark, paper made by wasps, spider egg casings, filaments from weeds, and caterpillar webbing.

For most of us, recognizing a song helps us become familiar with birds that would otherwise remain elusive or overlooked. I recommend visiting www.bird-songs.net for starters, and then when you hear a vireo outdoors, look up into the branches for a drab little bird with an eye-stripe. If the singing seems to never stop, you’ll know it is the secretive red-eyed vireo.

Robert Tougias is a Colchester birding author. You can ask him questions at rtougias@snet.net.