Crows are common in the city but ravens are rare so I was surprised to hear a raven this week in Schenley Park. It called and circled overhead waiting for its companion to arrive. “Brrrock! Brrrock!” When the second raven caught up they flew away together.
I see ravens in town about twice a year but I only hear them make the Brrrock call. If I lived where common ravens (Corvus corax) are common, I’d hear their wide variety of sounds.
This video from Anchorage, Alaska gives you an idea of the ravens’ vocal range. He starts with Brrrock. Then he gets creative.
When you’re vulnerable to predators it pays to stick together and have a good lookout to warn you of danger.
The dusky-throated antshrike (Thamnomanes ardesiacus) doesn’t look important but he’s quick to notice the presence of hawks and falcons and has a distinctive alarm call that wakes up the forest to impending danger. It turns out that he’s key to the foraging location and cohesion of his mixed species flocks in the Amazon.
Early this year, a study by San Francisco State University temporarily removed dusky-throated antshrikes from their mixed species flocks in Peru. They discovered that within hours the flocks left their semi-open mid-story locations for denser parts of the forest. Often the flocks without an antshrike completely dissolved.
What does the alarm call sound like? Is it loud? Does it grab your attention? You bet! Here’s the sound of a worried dusky-throated antshrike:
His role in the flock works so well that the same mix of species sticks together for generations. As San Francisco State Professor Vance Vredenburg remarked, “You come back to the same habitat after 20 years, and the same flocks are using the same areas of the forest.”
p.s. When the antshrike is not afraid he sings this buzzy, rising song. (audio by Peter Boesman at Xeno Canto #271766)
Dusky-throated antshrike song (Xeno Canto 271766)
(media credits: photo of dusky-throated antshrike by Cameron Rutt, audio alarm call from Macaulay Library, audio song from Xeno Canto; click on the captions to see the originals)
Purple martin male, singing near his nest, Chicago (photo from Wikimedia Commons)
We don’t think of swallows as songbirds but indeed they do sing. Our largest swallow, the purple martin (Progne subis), has a unique sound that carries far. With practice, you can recognize their voices even when you can’t see them.
Purple martins nest communally so the best place to learn their song is near a purple martin colony.
In early summer near their nests, you’ll hear songs, creaky rattles and the sound of begging juveniles. (Purple martins vocalizing near their nest, including begging calls of young, from Xeno Canto XC139568 by Russ Wigh)
The throaty, gurgling chirps are unique to purple martins. When you hear it overhead, look for a nearby colony and go see the swallows sing.
In his preferred habitat the wren is hard to see. Mostly black and brown, his white throat looks like a splash of sunlight from below.
Black-bellied wren, Panama (photo by Fransceso Veronesi from Wikimedia Commons)
But he’s easy to hear. When he really gets going he doesn’t sound like a water drop at all. This long melodious song (xeno-canto XC15653) was recorded by Don Jones on Semaphore Hill Road, the road to Canopy Tower.
The “water drop” is just a tiny snatch of song.
(photos from Wikimedia Commons; click on the images to see the originals. recordings downloaded from Xeno Canto; links provided to the originals)
What happens when you put a very smart parrot in a room with a voice-activated virtual assistant?
The owners of an African grey parrot named Petra also have an Amazon Echo, the tall black cylinder that activates a blue light when it hears the word “Alexa.” Say “Alexa” and the computer carries out your command.
Petra tells Alexa a lot of things such as …
“Tell me about the rock” and …
… and “Petra Makes a Shopping List.” As the video description says: “The humans in the house have NEVER intentionally added anything to Alexa’s shopping list. But maybe Bibi the Bird did?”
Mourning dove cooing (screenshot from YouTube video by jkontrad)
What is that hooting? Is it an owl calling in the middle of the day?
In the spring, male mourning doves (Zenaida macroura) perch high, puff their throats and make the deepest loudest sound possible for a bird so small. The first rising note is lost in the distance, but the last two or three low notes carry far.
Last week at Moraine State Park I was momentarily transfixed when I heard “Hoooo Hoooo” across the valley. When I paused to listen I realized that the cadence didn’t match any local owl. Not the great horned owl. Not the barred owl. I heard only two notes but they were spaced like the mourning dove’s.
Listen as a mourning dove sings one rising note, then 3 or 2 low notes. Imagine you can hear only the last two notes. (Xeno-canto recording XC153652 by Paul Marvin at Moosehead NWR, Maine)
Now compare it to these two owls:
GREAT HORNED OWL recording by Ted Floyd, Boulder, CO at Xeno-canto XC344952
BARRED OWL recording by Tim Spahr, Ithaca, NY at Xeno-canto XC25239
Male European Starlng singing, Bristol, UK (photo from Wikimedia Commons)
When you hear a wiry bird sound in the city, chances are it’s a male European starling (Sturnus vulgaris) singing to claim territory and attract a mate.
In the spring male starlings perch up high with a long view in all directions. Then they lift their beaks, puff out their throat feathers and sing. “Notice me!” they say.
But it’s not a pleasant song. It reminds me of the sound made by fast-forwarding an audio tape. (That’s how old I am.)
When starlings drop their mechanical sounds they sometimes mimic other birds, though with a wiry edge. Here’s a songster in Italy, Xeno-Canto #XC394233 by Marco Dragonetti.
When you hear sounds like these, look up and you’ll find a starling.
(photo from Wikimedia Commons; click on the image to see the original. Audio from Xeno Canto)
Blue jay in the rain (photo by Christian Lanctot via Flickr, Creative Commons license)
25 February 2018
On Thursday afternoon, a flock of blue jays called and sang in the rain outside my window. They were so musical that I recorded them.
In the clip below you can hear rain falling and some harsh “jeer” calls, but notice the musical “tweedle” songs. Those are blue jays (Cyanocitta cristata) performing the pumphandle call as they bob on the perch. These are faint; turn up your speakers.
Blue jays “tweedle”in the rain, 22 Feb 2018, the Pumphandle call:
This call sometimes means there’s a mild threat nearby, but it’s usually heard in the spring while they’re claiming mates and territory.
After a while, the flock changed its tune. Listen for the faint “djeep djeep” in this clip.
Weather didn’t dampen the blue jays’ spirits. They felt like singing in the rain.
European starling flock (photo by Pat Gaines via Flickr)
I’m sure you’ve seen starlings fly away to avoid a predator. Have you heard their warning signal?
Over the years I’ve noticed that European starlings (Sturnus vulgaris) make a spitting sound just before they flee. Sometimes only one or two birds call the alarm, a sharp note repeated three or more times. It sounds like this.
When I look for the reason they’re making the sound, I always see a hawk in the air. I’ve learned to look for a raptor when I hear that sound.
The starlings must be saying, “Danger From The Air!”
(photo of starling flock by Pat Gaines on Flickr; click on the image to see the original. Recording of common starling (Sturnus vulgaris) by Toon Jansen at xeno-canto #XC393749)
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