It’s 6:18 a.m. and I’ve just come in from filling the birdfeeders for the morning rush. Normally I would be in the car on my way to work, but this is February vacation. Many of my students were coughing, sneezing, and looking generally the worse for wear, so the break was well timed. It gives everyone a chance to sleep, rest and recuperate from whatever ailments they are afflicted with.
As a bonus, it also gives me a week to spend my mornings watching birds. Yesterday was my birthday and Nature herself sent a present in the form of a male bluebird singing his wistful little song.
This brought my species count up to 34 for this month of February; an improvement of two species above the previous record of 32 species set last year. This morning I went outside with ears open to possibly detecting the song of a common grackle, the next most likely bird to show itself and add itself to my February list. So, with seed buckets in hand, I ventured out onto the deck.
I didn’t hear any grackles, but that’s not too surprising since it was well before sunrise, but I was delighted to hear birds actually singing. It’s still quite early in the year, with a full month of winter to go, but already some ambitious little minstrels are tuning up for their big springtime reviews. The loudest voices belonged to tufted titmice, featured in last week’s column, and the northern cardinal, the subject of this week’s column.
This winter has actually been a spectacular one for cardinals in my yard. Normally very shy around the feeders, cardinals are more willing to present themselves in broad daylight during the winter when the weather is bad and food is desperately needed. So, I strategically place birdseed in places that might coax cardinals, or any other birds for that matter, into the branches of a lilac bush that is growing next to the railing on my deck. Then, I set up my camera and wait for the birds to cooperate while I sip warm coffee from a ceramic mug.
The thing that has made this winter so particularly tremendous for cardinals is the sheer number of them that I have seen. I looked back in my red field journal for January and February of 2016. These months generally represent the “meaty” part of the winter and should reflect the true number of birds that are around. The average number of cardinals seen on a daily basis was 2.4 birds with a total of 20 records, a low count of 0 and a high count of five.
For the same period of time this year, the average is up to 5.2 birds per day, with 24 records (more snow days this year), a low count of 0 and a high count of 10. That’s correct, 10 birds! On Jan. 18, I was stunned to find myself looking at seven male cardinals all at the same time. On another day, I saw five female cardinals at the same time, which means that there are at least 12 cardinals in the vicinity of my yard. Perhaps even more.
So what’s going on here? Well, my current hypothesis is that I’ve got at least one pair of adults that had a successful breeding season that produced a late brood of chicks that have been hanging around with them during the winter. Completely untestable, but this seems like a fairly good explanation for the observations I’ve been making. But there is more evidence that I can provide to bolster this claim.
In general, the breast feathers of male cardinals are a deep, luxurious shade of red. When I researched the names of these different reds, I discovered that they could be described as being red, the brightest, to Carmine, the darkest, with a hint of Coquelicot (orange) here and there. However, juvenile males start out looking much like their caramel-colored mothers and gradually grow into their red feathers. So the particularly orange-looking male I photographed could very well be a youngster that is starting to look like his father. Again, completely untestable by me at this point in time. There is a reference book that may hold the key to my claim and I must procure a copy post haste. But let me fret over the exact status of each male cardinal in the world.
You can simply enjoy these magnificent birds by going outside in the morning and listening for their wonderful songs. I will often stick my neck out and hear a song that could be described as a bird singing the words, “bright-bright-clear-clear-clear.” The “bright” notes should be emphasized as loud, up-swing questions, while the “clear” notes should be emphasized as bold statements of fact. It sounds a bit silly, but you’ll recognize the song when you hear it.
It is now 7:24 a.m. and I’ve come to the end of my writing for the day. I’m going to sit outside and wait for grackles in the morning sun — enjoying the songs of cardinals all the while.
Bill Danielson has worked for the National Park Service, the U.S. Forest Service, and the Massachusetts State Parks. He has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 19 years and also teaches high school biology and physics. For more information, visit: www.speaking
ofnature.com or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.