Everyone's been talking about two new bird books: What It's Like to Be a Bird, by David Sibley, and The Bird Way, by Jennifer Ackerman. We also have a beautiful reproduction of Audubon's Birds of America. The first thing I learned from all these books is that there are a lot of different kinds of birds! I think I can identify about 20 or 25 North American species, but there are hundreds, and then all the others around the world! And each one has its own song and its own behavior patterns.
Let's compare and contrast our two new neighbors. First, the cardinals. In March there was much hopping around in the half-dead hemlock trees out back, with multiple males and one female sitting on the evergreen branches singing like they were in a Christmas movie. Finally, Ms. Cardinal made a selection amongst her suitors-- I have no idea how! Scientists think the crest that the male can raise and lower, and the richness of his bright coloration, may have something to do with it. The new pair built a pile of twigs in the heart of a bush, inaccessible and almost invisible even once we knew where to look. In fact, we did not even realize it was there until after the babies were hatched and sticking their little beaks up in the air like cartoon birdies chirping "feed me, feed me!" They kept Mama busy flying back and forth to provide for them, while Daddy continued to hop around the hemlocks, standing guard. And then they were gone-- Mama, Daddy, and the babies had vacated the premises when we weren't even looking.
The mourning doves were different from first to last. We became aware of their activites when one of them starting sitting next to the open window of my husband Mark's upstairs office, uttering the beautiful "hoo-hoo-hoo" that is so instantly recognizable... for hours at a time. Apparently, that was Mr. Dove's way of saying, "I've got a home for you-hoo-hoo." Mrs. Dove (they typically mate for life) found it agreeable, probably because someone else-- someone much smaller-- had already built a tidy little mud-lined picture-book nest right at the corner, so they just needed to build an addition to accommodate their size. Their "improvements" were-- well-- not much of an improvement. Certainly when they were done the nest was bigger, but it was, as the Audubon society says, "flimsy" in appearance, and it seemed certain that Mr., Mrs., and any little bundles of joy to follow would surely fall right off the window ledge at the first storm. But Mrs. Dove boldly took up her post.
Mrs. Dove liked nothing better than to look askance at Mark all day long, glaring at him out of one beady eye, just daring him to come any closer to her little darlings. She did not leave her post for a solid three weeks-- two weeks to hatch, and another week just to keep the newborns warm. I thought I heard some fluttering outside the window one evening which might have been Mr. Dove coming to relieve her, as I have heard they do. But during the day, it was Mrs. Dove's shift, and she spent at least 12 hours sitting squarely on top of her lean-to nest.
Around the beginning of week four, we noticed that Mrs. Dove had edged off the nest a bit-- always keeping her back between us and the babies, and always giving us the evil eye if we approached to try to peek in. Despite her best efforts, we got a glimpse of the little ones sticking their beaks in her throat to drink the "crop milk" she secreted. Pretty soon they were big enough that their heads stuck over the top of the nest and she couldn't completely hide them. Now they are fledged and don't drink "milk" any more, and she and the Mr. will sometimes leave them unattended for a minute or two, presumably because it takes both of the adults to rustle up enough seeds for a family of four.
Around the same we began to hear a new sound in our neighborhood, almost like a gull's cry. I finally learned what it was one day when a hawk was mobbed right to the oak tree in the front yard. He sat on a branch for a minute and unmistakeably was the source of the repeated caw. Since then, I've realized that he works a territory about three blocks square. Imagine my surprise when I heard him calling 100 yards in front of me, and then heard the distinctive crashing and rustling of another hawk coming in low through the trees right over me and to the right. With all the trees in full leaf, I hear more bird activity than I see.
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| David Sibley |
