Sometime within the next week and a half the red-winged blackbirds will return to Eastern Massachusetts. In my town, the earliest of the spring migrants will arrive on the 26th of February, give or take a few days. Not even an abnormally warm winter will disrupt their schedule.
Articles with Birds
Singles bars in the bird world
Here’s one for the habitués of the singles bars. Looking for the perfect mate? Or just a one-night stand? What defines a good pick-up bar? A choice location? A standout crowd? Who’s pulling the strings — I mean really pulling the strings — that control the pickup dynamic?
In praise of the useless
You’ll find it tucked away in the middle of the Sunday Globe on the page with the weather report, next to the Megabucks winning number and “This Day in History.”
Lessons in love from the pied flycatcher
How can I make myself more attractive to the opposite sex?
Reports of this bird’s demise exaggerated
The ivory-billed woodpecker lives! That is the announcement made several weeks ago by ornithologist Lester Short of the American Museum of Natural History.
For the loon, a cry of distress
In autumn Thoreau listened for the sound of the loon on Walden Pond. He called it “a wild sound, heard afar and suited to the wildest lake.” Another time he heard “a long-drawn unearthly howl, probably more like a wolf than any bird.” We need, said Thoreau, “the tonic of wildness.” The loon’s voice was part of that tonic.
A melancholy song of spring
This morning he was there, hiding in a meadow beaten flat by winter, in a cavity of crumpled grass that had been abandoned for a deeper burrow by some still-sleeping creature. Spring was hiding that borrowed nest. It was the middle of March and meadowlark was back!
Starlings: from the sea to shining sea
Economists have a maxim called Gresham’s Law that says “bad money will always drive out good.” Sometimes I think ecologists should enunciate a similar principle.
Stalking the great blue heron
Even before I saw him I felt the shove of his huge wings. There was a sound of air moving. I turned and there he was, his zeppelin bulk rising inexplicably into the air, his long legs dangling behind like mooring lines. The great blue heron.