birding by ear

White-breasted Nuthatches in front of the house included an adult feeding a youngster, thus confirming that this species bred here this year. Also a small feeding flock included Eastern Phoebe, Tufted Titmice and two Pine Warblers, at least one of which looked like a young bird; could have been a female but most likely a young of the year.

In the still-calling-but-not-seen category: Yellow-billed Cuckoo and Clapper Rail.

I'm doing most of my birding these days by ear. This is especially true as I work my way along (or, at low tide, actually into) the marsh and then along the side and up to the head of the marsh where there is a dense shrub habitat with adjacent open woodland. The bird chorus is at its peak these days and the singing follows a pattern that is repeated almost every morning -- a kind of avian symphony with a definite form. The percussive opening is provided by the clapping Lonesome Rail who continues to call from different parts of the marsh. The Purple Martins provide a melodious chirpy introduction backed up by the "conk-a-ree" of the Red-winged Blackbird, the "witchity-witchity-witch" of the Common Yellowthroat and the "sweet-sweet-sweet-I'm-so-sweet" of the Yellow Warbler. American Robin and Baltimore Oriole chime in with the main musical themes accompanied by Song Sparrow and, a bit further along, the two wrens, House and Carolina. Sometimes the warbles of the House Finch and American Goldfinch, both melodious in their way, also blend in. As I move up to the top of the marsh I can hear notes and calls from some woodland birds that have ventured to the edge: the wheeps, squawks and churrrs of the Great Crested Flyctcher and Red-bellied Woodpecker, the one-note trills of the Pine Warbler and Chipping Sparrow, the two-note songs of the two titmice, Tufted and Black-capped Chickadee, the "honk-honk-honk" of the White-breasted Nuthatch and the distant, but instantly recognizable call of a Yellow-billed Cuckoo (the Red-eyed Vireo is, alas, silent or gone elsewhere). Surrounding it all is the complex, squeaky coloratura of the Catbird and the repeated contrapuntal echos of the Mockingbird.

People often ask me whether I have ever included bird song in my music. And, if not, why not? The answer is that I never am satisfied with the transcription of bird songs into our musical notation and/or instrumentation. Especially since I can enjoy the real thing -- quite a different kind of musical ensemble -- these spring mornings!
  
Eric Salzman