One of the absolute joys of living in this part of western Michigan is the abundance and variety of birds. There are few experiences as magnificent as getting up while it is still dark to go for even a short walk. That is when we get the best opportunity to hear the birds sometimes called the “pre-dawn songsters.” Robins prevail. One starts, much like a military bugler, and soon others join in. The neighborhood comes alive with song.
If you want to experience this treat, you had better hurry. Already, there are fewer voices in the trees, and soon there will be even less.
Our imagination can get the better of us when we project too much human emotion into bird songs. Despite Wordsworth’s poems about meadowlarks singing because of the joy of waking up early in the morning, augmented by Ralph Vaughn William’s tone poem, The Lark Arising the truth is far less romantic.
In the early spring when the birds migrate north, their first order of business is to establish their territory and a place to establish their nest. Many of our favorite birds are very territorial. Bluebirds demand about an acre to themselves. Robins keep their distance from each other. The male selects a territory and then announces his claim, first thing each morning, “Mine! Keep away! Scram!” You can see them chase one another and bitterly scold interlopers.
Ornithologists have identified different songs within each species. There is one song that they use to stake out their claim; another which the male gives fair warning not to drop by to visit his mate. A third song is to let every other bird in the area that there is a predator nearby, whether it is a hawk or cat. Or person.
By now, the birds have nested, laid their first clutch of eggs, and are too busy feeding their young to sit on a perch and sing just for fun. Not only are they busy, but they pipe down so predators cannot easily find them.
Even while they are caring for their young, they are starting to molt. Their flight feathers drop away and must re-grow before it is time to fly south. Once the juveniles are able to fly, many of our favorite birds will be planning their flight paths. One day they will simply be gone.
If we are lucky, we might be at the right time and place to see thousands of starlings join in their murmuration, often as they prepare to migrate. They fly up from their perches and begin a beautiful ballet in the sky that can last for many minutes. What makes it all the more fascinating is that no one yet fully understands why they do it, or how so many of them can move together in a small space without colliding.
Again, enjoy it while you can. That is one reason we live here.
There is also another interesting phenomenon in human-bird interactions. We seem to label birds as good or bad. Robins, most finches, house wrens, and others are, or so we have decided, good birds. We smile when we see a red-headed or a pileated woodpecker because they remind us Woody Woodpecker from the cartoon series. Never mind that of all the songbirds, robins are the most homicidal. They look so cute and sing so nicely, they entertain us by prowling across our lawns and pausing to extract an earthworm, but it is estimated that as many as 10% are killed by their own species
Opposite them are the ‘bad birds,’ if only in our own imagination. We admire the beauty of a hawk zipping past, but instantly change our minds when they swoop in and roll another bird at the feeder or birdbath. Very few of us feel the pitter-patter of joy when we see crackles and starlings patrolling our lawn, nor English sparrows when they eat the seeds we just planted, then make a racket laughing at us.
We do not have many charitable thoughts about cowbirds. They are the ones with a black plumage and brown heads. They look a little shady, and act like they are up to something, the way they look around before doing anything. They are lazy squatters, uninterested in building a nest or raising their chicks. Instead, they will leave their eggs in the nests of other birds and move on to do whatever it is cowbirds do the rest of the season. Another family of birds is expected to raise the chicks, even when these young interlopers start pushing baby birds out of their rightful home.
Maybe, we think, the only good thing about a blackbird is they way they taunt and harry crows, chasing them out of their territory. We might even say that perhaps the crows are getting exactly what they deserve because they are the ones who are arch enemies of owls.
Or go to any of the beaches on Lake Michigan, and you are certain to see and hear gulls and terns. They might be fascinating to watch as they scavenge the sand for something to eat or attack the trash containers. But that changes the instant they swoop in on us, or especially young children, and snatch away a sandwich.
And then there is Alfred Hitchcock’s very frightening film, The Birds. The tension builds when black gulls fly into a Pacific coast village and land on power lines, trees, and buildings. Twice they terrorize the humans and leave some cuts and scrapes in their wake. The tension grows after the scene where the schoolchildren are singing an ultra-sanitized version of an old Scottish song, Risseldy Rosseldy. As the children are leaving the school, the birds attack and….. well, if you haven’t seen the film yet, I’m not going to spoil it for you.
Just know that you will never see a telephone line loaded with birds, or a beach with swarms of gulls, and feel comfortable again! Scenes from the movie will come to mind.
To make matters a bit more interesting, paleontologists tell us that the origin of today’s birds can be traced back to the dinosaurs. Take a good look at a chicken and maybe you can see some similarities. Or is it your imagination running away with you, and our love to categorize things as good or evil?
Just get up early some morning in the coming week and get out and enjoy the music in the trees. We don’t get that sort of entertainment in January, you know. The birds provide great musical performances, and we return the favor with our imagination.
