The Joyous Sounds of Blackbirds Singing in the Dead of Afternoon

By Brian Kluepfel

Paul McCartney is a wonderful musician, but he was likely wrong about blackbirds singing in the dead of night. They’re probably asleep at that juncture, but then again, with all his gold records I’ll allow Sir Paul of Liverpool a bit of poetic license.

But I’ll return to blackbirds in a moment.

Last week I was looking out my window at Croton Bay, and I spied an otter in the water: always a wonderful sight to see this mammal, and a sign that our mighty river is recovering. The otter seemed to be fishing in its own slithering fashion, while a cormorant behind it dived and fished in its own inimitable way. As I focused my binoculars on this event, a beautiful Baltimore oriole crossed my field of vision.

Of all the songbirds who come our way in spring, the oriole must be my favorite. Oh, today I saw an abundance of tree swallows defending their nest boxes, flashing metallic blue in the warm June sun; a young catbird joined the path in front of me, carefully putt-putting along and picking up seed clusters that were probably causing me an allergic reaction; a pileated woodpecker knocked insistently, and loudly, in the wood next to the Hudson River rivulet bordering Mariandale.

But it was the blackbirds, the Baltimore oriole and red-winged blackbird, that held my attention.

Both birds belong to the Icterid family, the New World blackbirds (which have nothing to do with Old World blackbirds, just as Irish bars in America have little to do with Irish bars in Kilkenny. But I digress). Icterids include orioles, cowbirds and meadowlarks and are known for having a flash of orange, yellow or red coloring highlighting the black-blue sheen of their feathers.

Baltimores, which we’ve been lucky to lure with half-oranges strewn in the yard, feature that emblematic yellow-orange coat from which their name was derived, as it resembles the coat of arms of Lord Baltimore of Ireland. (Somehow, we keep going back there.)

Icterids’ name is derived from the Greek for “jaundiced,” because, as we remember from medical school, people with jaundice tend to turn yellow. I hope the birds never find out that we’ve named them for this affliction, so let’s not let the word get around.

The red-winged blackbird is one of the Icterid genus Agelaius, Greek for gregarious. Those who’ve seen a red-winged blackbird have no doubt about the origin of this moniker. There are four other Agelaius species: the red-shouldered blackbird of Cuba, the yellow-shouldered blackbird of Puerto Rico and the tawny-shouldered blackbird of Cuba, the Cayman Islands and Hispaniola (Haiti and the Dominican Republic). The tricolored blackbird skirts America’s Pacific Coast from Oregon to the Baja Peninsula.

A male red-winged blackbird is no shrinking violet. These avian players can have up to 15 mates in a season. In its marshy habitat, it often perches atop a cattail or other protuberance, loudly proclaiming its presence with a shrill whistle not unlike that of a basketball referee’s. They flare their wings, handsome red-and-yellow epaulet flashing. I even had an aggressive nesting red-winged blackbird fly deliberately into my head in the Montreal Botanical Garden several years ago. You just don’t play with these birds. In Costa Rica, they call this bird sargento (the sergeant). Don’t mess.

Any local who’s birding near a swamp, marsh or stream will easily add the red-winged blackbird to their e-Bird list. According to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, they are “one of the most abundant birds across North America.”

In fact, both Baltimore orioles and red-winged blackbirds are listed as species of “Least Concern” by the International Union for Conservation of Nature, so we should be glad they are so abundant, and easy to see.

However, it’s also easy to see how quickly species numbering in the millions have been quickly wiped off the face of the Earth (Carolina parakeet, passenger pigeon) and birds are quite susceptible to insecticides; crop seeds coated in Neonicotinoids, a group of pesticides, are of particular concern. New York passed the landmark Birds and Bees Protection Act just last week, eliminating neonics use by 80 to 90 percent.

The peerage of the Lord of Baltimore is an extinct title, relegated to the dustbin of history. Let’s be vigilant and ensure that the lovely bird which bears its name does not suffer a similar fate.

Brian Kluepfel is an author for the Lonely Planet travel series as well as Birdwatching and Westchester Magazines. He is proud to be a member of Saw Mill River Audubon and encourages you to participate in their activities listed on this page.

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