Spring Song

I was up before dawn this morning and in time to savor the dawn chorus -- an early morning challenge that gets increasingly difficult as the sun comes up earlier and earlier. The dawn chorus is, of course, that burst of spring birdsong that greets the arrival of a new day. It starts very early as first light shows in the east and increases in volume as the light increases in intensity. All the spring songsters join in -- even some of the ones that are just passing through -- in a full-throated song ensemble of such great volume and intensity that it is often difficult to separate out the individual strands of song; this is truly a counterpoint of symphonic dimensions. After the sun appears, the full chorus falls off although, in the clear, bright atmosphere of early spring, birds continue to sing all morning (and it is a lot easier to pick out the individual songs).

Some of our best songsters were in the mix this morning. Alas, no thrushes but both Carolina and House Wrens were there. Thrushes and wrens include some of the world's best singers; our local representatives of those tribes are perhaps more distinguished by persistence than by sheer beauty of sound. Another group of outstanding vocalists are the mimids and, sure enough, the Northern Mockingbird and Gray Catbird were in there this morning. Some biologists call the Brown Thrasher, our third local mimid, the world's greatest singer -- not so much for sheer beauty of sound but because this bird has the largest known repertoire of songs; Thrashers habitually sing each song twice in a row but they can go on for hours at a time without repeating themselves any further. There were two Thrashers back of the house this morning; one of them was singing from the highest tree top while the other foraged, as thrashers are wont to do, in the leaf litter on the ground. I know for sure that one was a male; perhaps the other was his mate. Occasionally the male would drop down to the ground and join his associate in the hunt for something to eat before climbing back up to his song perch.

Of all the singers you can hear on the East End, two of the most attractive for both looks and tonal quality are the Rose-breasted Grosbeak and the Orchard Oriole. Neither one is all that common in these parts but both were singing away this morning. Their songs are actually quite similar: both short and quite melodic. The Grosbeak has the purer tone; the Oriole song usually mixes in some throatier tones. Unlike our warblers (which don't warble), these are warbley songs par excellence. The Oriole, which has been on the increase in recent years, has nested around here in the past and might do so again. Maybe the Grosbeak will too; I'm keeping an eye out for a female.

Eric Salzman