Nature Note #153: River of Blackbirds
Blackbirds might not be the most charismatic group of birds, but they are filled with plenty of characters. From the songster orioles to the clanging grackles and the bastard cowbirds, blackbirds or "icterids" as ornithologists call them are a diverse group.
This past weekend, Alison and I headed over to Three Rivers in Baldwinsville to check out the bird life. While it wasn't our first choice for birding (Beaver Lake was closed so that volunteers could set up a Halloween-related festival), we were determined to find some birds. The leaves had peaked and were drifting off the trees one by one. In the distance, gunshots rang out precipitously. Perhaps a flock of geese had mistaken an array of decoys for peaceful comrades while the hunters lay out of sight, waiting for the right moment.
While listening to the calls of robins and cardinals in the trees before us, a bubbly whistling caught our attention. Just below the robins were some smallish black birds. We placed binocular gaze on them and set to work trying to identify them. Most of the time when IDing birds, I have the binoculars up, straining for a better view than even 10x42s will offer me while my arm muscles twitch under the strain. When it becomes clear that I have no idea what I'm looking at, I then remember to look for field marks that may or may not be present. This usually happens when I'm looking at what I think is a duck in the middle of a large lake or at a sparrow I'm fairly confident is any other sparrow other than a Song Sparrow but in hindsight is probably the latter.
Those small black birds were in fact blackbirds, but one's I'd never been fortunate enough to see up close. They were Rusty Blackbirds (Euphagus carolinus), so called because of the rust-brown edgings to their feathers during the winter months. This edging wears away over the winter and eventually reveals their glossy black summer plumage.
There were seven in all, twirling their liquid notes through the emptying trees on a damp, windy Saturday. The fact that they were also life birds for the both of us made up for the crumby weather. As we headed home, another sight caught our attention. A river of birds was making their way through the sky. The rusties relatives, Common Grackles (Quiscalus quiscula) and Red-winged Blackbirds (Agelaius phoeniceus) gathered together in a winding, tumbling mass in the rainy dim. They were quite the sight to see.
I see them everywhere now. Immense flowing flocks rushing towards something important, something needed by thousands of birds. Recently, I was rewatching a video posted by Fold the Flock which shows in a less than a minute and a half what it would have been like to experience a flock of Passenger Pigeons (Ectopistes migratorius) traveling overhead. While it is exciting seeing such a huge flock of birds, nothing will ever compare to the density and volume of those birds that used to exist. However, from now on, whenever a flock of blackbirds does pass me by, I will be sure to give them a few moments of observational awe.
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| Baltimore Oriole |
While listening to the calls of robins and cardinals in the trees before us, a bubbly whistling caught our attention. Just below the robins were some smallish black birds. We placed binocular gaze on them and set to work trying to identify them. Most of the time when IDing birds, I have the binoculars up, straining for a better view than even 10x42s will offer me while my arm muscles twitch under the strain. When it becomes clear that I have no idea what I'm looking at, I then remember to look for field marks that may or may not be present. This usually happens when I'm looking at what I think is a duck in the middle of a large lake or at a sparrow I'm fairly confident is any other sparrow other than a Song Sparrow but in hindsight is probably the latter.
Those small black birds were in fact blackbirds, but one's I'd never been fortunate enough to see up close. They were Rusty Blackbirds (Euphagus carolinus), so called because of the rust-brown edgings to their feathers during the winter months. This edging wears away over the winter and eventually reveals their glossy black summer plumage.
There were seven in all, twirling their liquid notes through the emptying trees on a damp, windy Saturday. The fact that they were also life birds for the both of us made up for the crumby weather. As we headed home, another sight caught our attention. A river of birds was making their way through the sky. The rusties relatives, Common Grackles (Quiscalus quiscula) and Red-winged Blackbirds (Agelaius phoeniceus) gathered together in a winding, tumbling mass in the rainy dim. They were quite the sight to see.
I see them everywhere now. Immense flowing flocks rushing towards something important, something needed by thousands of birds. Recently, I was rewatching a video posted by Fold the Flock which shows in a less than a minute and a half what it would have been like to experience a flock of Passenger Pigeons (Ectopistes migratorius) traveling overhead. While it is exciting seeing such a huge flock of birds, nothing will ever compare to the density and volume of those birds that used to exist. However, from now on, whenever a flock of blackbirds does pass me by, I will be sure to give them a few moments of observational awe.
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