tails (heh) of bird love

adult male Northern Cardinal

(photo by Beth Erwin)

“...chestnut-brown canary, ruby-throated sparrow

sing a song, don't be long, thrill me to the marrow.”

--  Stephen Stills

     Down here in the bottomland hardwoods of northeastern Lafayette parish the Northern Cardinal flock comprises the backbone of our backyard bird population. I have no real idea about how many cardinals live and/or visit our backyard on a daily basis, but on one particular day this past winter I remember counting 36 males simultaneously perched in the bare trees and shrubs around our main seed-feeder station. So it's safe to say that we've come to learn a lot about Northern Cardinals over the past 28 years. But not everything.

     On the morning of April 8, as I sat with coffee on our back porch, I was treated to a slice of cardinal behavior that I had never before witnessed.

female northern cardinal (young)

(photo by Russ Norwood http://www.theperceptivist.com/)

     It all started when a couple of female cardinals lit in the little double-blush althea tree at the edge of the porch, about 12-feet from me.

foolishly-young Northern Cardinal

(photo by Russ Norwood http://www.theperceptivist.com/)

     Directly, a young male, doubtlessly bursting with love in his heart (and loins), careened into the althea, nearly knocking one of the females over upon landing. With the offended female flitting over to the adjacent Oriental buttonbush, the young male immediately turned his attention to the remaining female. Sitting about 18” from her, and staring ardently into her eyes, he stretched his big head as tall as he could, erected his crest as vertical as he could, and began swaying from side to side as he emitted his song of love: “See-ah Chee-ah Chee-ah...Chee-Row!Chee-Row!Chee-Row!Chee-Row!”

     She waited around for one encore before flitting away to the big cypress tree, unimpressed. The male immediately jumped over the the Oriental buttonbush and the remaining female, but she didn't even let him get started before joining the other female in the big cypress.

male Prothonotary Warbler (with black cherry)

(photo by Russ Norwood http://www.theperceptivist.com/ )

     To add injury to insult, a local male Prothonotary Warbler – obviously miffed that the young cardinal had unknowingly interloped upon his personal performance space – shot into the buttonbush and promptly nipped the poor youngster on the tail. Astonished, but still very much preoccupied with the females in the big cypress, the young male gave a quick startled look at the Prothonotary, who nipped him again; this time chasing him up and finally off of the branch he was occupying.

     Not only had I never seen a Prothonotary Warbler assaulting a cardinal, but I had also never seen a male cardinal's courtship performance – what with the swaying and erecting and singing what I had always assumed was an “alternate” territorial song. So now I'm thinking that the abovementioned song is actually the true courtship song, whereas the more common/familiar “Cheer!-Cheer!-Cheer!...Purdy!Purdy!Purdy!Purdy!”that most of us associate with the Northern Cardinal must be its territorial song – the song it uses to let other males and females alike know where his turf is.

     I tell ya', Nature just keeps comin' at ya', you know? No matter how often and how careful of a Nature-watcher one is, there's always something new waiting around the corner.

     Speaking of which, an even-more-amazing bird-love-event recently descended upon my buddy Larry Amy, who lives on Bayou Vermilion in the city of Lafayette. Larry's got a cool digital sound system for the house as well as the patio out back. So the other day he's sitting out back and he fires up a song by the Buena Vista Social Club through the patio speakers.

young Brown Thrasher

(photo by Beth Erwin)

     Immediately, a male Brown Thrasher begins scurrying through the backyard bushes, then jets up to a bare spot at the top of an old American elm – the highest/clearest/closest perch to the patio – and begins singing his head off.

     Now, Brown Thrashers are pretty shy and discreet birds. Unlike cardinals, they are not in the habit of popping up into plain sight – except, that is, during breeding season, when males will occasionally sit up at the tops of trees (usually limited to the early morning hours) and sing their beautiful mocking-bird-like songs.

     Sufficiently amazed, Larry turned the music off. The bird immediately stopped singing. Waiting awhile, Larry turned the music back on. The bird immediately started singing again. Larry told me about this. I suggested he try the same song on a succeeding day to see what happens. He did. And so did the thrasher. I asked him if he had tried any other songs besides the Buena Vista Social Club. He did. The thrasher did not.