Bird Nirvana on the Gulf: My High Island Migration Adventure

High Island Field Trip - East Texas Birdin

High Island Field Trip - East Texas Birdin

Few words cause birders’ eyes to glaze over with faraway longing quite like “High Island.” Mention it in a group of birders, and the chatter instantly turns to trip planning, life lists, and whispered hopes of catching a fallout. For some, it’s a yearly pilgrimage. For others, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime dream. But for all of us? It’s sacred ground.

Last year, I made the journey four times—visiting not just High Island but neighboring birding hotspots like Anahuac and Sabine Pass. That was enough to convince me: this year, I was staying for the long haul.

So here I am, on day eleven of living the birder’s dream. I’ve hiked Hooks Woods, lingered at Boy Scout Woods, scanned the skies at Smith Oaks, and even wandered the shade of Eubanks Woods. I’ve taken detours to Sabine Woods (my personal favorite), as well as Rollover Pass, Bolivar Beach, and Anahuac NWR. Still to come? A jaunt to Galveston. It’s not a vacation—it’s migration season, and I’m here for every flutter, flash, and feather.

Most days I birded alongside my good friend and fellow feather fanatic, Buck Lee. But this trip also served as an official Tyler Audubon Society field trip, and I had the pleasure of guiding 11 excited birders through the coastal thickets and sanctuaries.

By the time the group packed up and headed home, we had tallied 122 species—a number that included “lifers” for nearly everyone. (For the uninitiated: a “lifer” is the first time a birder sees a species. It’s kind of a big deal. There may be dancing.)

Here’s just a sampling of what we saw:

American Redstart, Anhinga, Black Skimmer, Black Tern, Blue-winged and Golden-winged Warblers, Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, Painted Buntings, Yellow-billed Cuckoos, Scarlet Tanagers, Purple Gallinules, Clapper Rails, Least Bitterns, and so many others. Nearly every stop brought something new—and often, something jaw-droppingly beautiful.


Let’s Talk About the “Fallout”

Now, every birder who migrates to High Island dreams of hitting that magical moment: the Fallout.

What’s a Fallout? Imagine thousands of songbirds barreling across the Gulf of Mexico—hundreds of miles nonstop—riding the wind currents like tiny, feathered daredevils. Most of the time, they glide in on southern breezes, making the long journey just fine.

But sometimes? Mother Nature throws a curveball.

When a strong cold front rolls in with northerly winds, it flips the script. Instead of helping, the wind fights the birds, wearing them out and forcing them to land the moment they see shore. And if that first patch of land is High Island… well, suddenly that quiet thicket has hundreds, if not thousands, of birds dropping in like confetti from the heavens.

Birders call it “the big one,” and some plan their entire spring around chasing that moment.

Enter windfinder.com (shoutout to Buck for introducing me to it!). It’s my new favorite tool for reading the skies and guessing whether the next few hours will bring the event.


Spoiler Alert: We Hit It

And we hit it.

The forecasts were right—strong southerly winds turning sharply northward at 15+ mph. We grabbed our gear and headed to the front drip at Smith Oaks. And then… birds started falling out of the sky.

Literally.

Baltimore Orioles, twenty or more, dropping through the canopy like orange ornaments. Vireos and warblers darting from every direction. Buck and I stood there grinning like kids on Christmas morning—binoculars up, cameras clicking, disbelief in our voices.

I ended that day with 68 species, including three lifers. It was a day I won’t forget. And probably won’t stop talking about for the next ten years.

Sadly, the Tyler Audubon group missed that particular event (that’s the luck of the birding draw), but they still had a blast. Birds were plentiful. Smiles were nonstop. And the “Wows!” echoed through the sanctuary all morning.

Add in a couple of legendary meals at Tia Juanita’s in Winnie, and yeah—it was one of the best trips we’ve ever done.


Want to Go? Here’s What You Need to Know

Thinking of making your own trip to High Island? Good. Do it. You won’t regret it.

The best time to go is late April through early May. If you’re booking hotels in nearby Winnie, call at least six months in advance—they fill up quickly during migration.

But if you want to chase a Fallout? Here’s the plan:

  • Keep a bag packed.

  • Bookmark a wind forecast app like windfinder.com.

  • When the winds shift from south to strong northerly, especially over 10 mph—drop everything and go.

  • Don’t forget your camera. Don’t forget your binoculars. And bring extra batteries. You’ll need them.


Final Thought: See You There?

I’ll be back again next year. Probably multiple times. And if the winds are right, I’ll be booking a last-minute motel room and driving 80 mph with binoculars on the dash.

Because some experiences—like a Golden-winged Warbler landing ten feet from your face—are worth the trip.

Hope to see you at the drip.

And if you hear someone whispering, “This might be it… this might be the Fallout,” it’s probably me. Or Buck. Either way, say hi—and don’t blink. The birds won’t wait.