As we approach the summer birding doldrums, a season when adult birds are busy feeding nestlings, and the heat of the day sends many of the birds into the shaded shelter of thick green canopies, our expectations for sightings are usually limited.

The perfect time for a long bicycle trip on the Towpath Trail, I thought. Little did I know the birding opportunities would be as rewarding as the 20-mile ride.

Fortunately for me, biking partner Ashley Heeney brought along her binoculars. I had forgotten mine, which should tell you something about my optimism.

I probably should have read my favorite local guide, "Birds of the Cleveland Region" by Larry Rosche before I left. Under late June/early July he reminds us:

Least flycatchers are identifiable by their call: "chebek!"

"Summer walks in the cool ravines associated with the local watersheds can provide rewarding birdwatching for even the most hardened of field observers."

Before we had even left the parking lot, we were hearing common yellowthroats and yellow warblers singing away, and seeing raptors – red-tailed, red-shouldered and Cooper's hawks – soaring in the puffy clouds overhead.

The sun was intense and the air thick with humidity as we pedaled north into the cool, shady forests of the Cuyahoga Valley National Park.

We encountered some of the expected woodland birds, such as scarlet tanager, warbling and red-eyed vireos, Acadian and great crested flycatchers, Eastern wood-pewees, pileated woodpeckers, American redstarts and hooded warblers.

We also encountered birds we didn't expect, like a chestnut-sided warbler merrily singing "pleased, pleased, pleased to meetcha," as we approached. And in the same stretch of wet woods we also heard and saw a least flycatcher – identified by its call, "chebek!" – which is uncommon here this time of year, according to Rosche's guide.

House wrens appear to have nested in my West Side backyard.

At the Ira Road beaver pond, swamp and song sparrows were perched on snags and singing, and tree swallows were coursing through the air just above the tops of the reeds.

In the trees that skirted the marsh, indigo buntings announced their territories, and a brown thrasher dashed across the trail and disappeared. A Carolina wren popped out of a mailbox in the tiny town near Boston Mills, causing us to wonder if it had a nest in there.

And just as we pulled out of Peninsula and headed south, Ashley spotted a hulking snapping turtle lazing by the trailside watching the bicyclists pedal by.

These are what I'm hoping to see in a few days: house wren eggs!

We racked our bikes and pulled out just as the thunderstorms hit , bringing a perfect end to an ideal summer adventure.

UPDATE

A few weeks ago, I lamented my failure at attracting house wrens to the houses I erected in the backyard at my new house in Cleveland's West Park. It seems my announcement was premature.

On Saturday, I spent much of the day leisurely watching a male house wren busily packing twigs into one of the houses, and periodically bubbling away with its boisterous song in an attempt to attract a mate.

Apparently, he was successful, as a female appeared in the afternoon. They chattered excitedly together and she checked out his handiwork. She left for awhile, and he kept building, but she later returned several times. The pair remained there Sunday morning and appeared to have found a home.