Red-Winged Blackbird

The birds have been very active in the mornings lately, and this turned out to be a spectacular morning for bird sightings. It was cold again, around 20 degrees F (about -7 C), and I stopped at Millbrook Marsh for a quick walk up the boardwalk.

I was treated to a marvelous diversity of bird sights and sounds. When I first arrived at the marsh, and stood on the little wooden bridge over Thompson Run, I heard two small brown birds having a real kerfuffle. It started along the edge of the stream and continued with a lot of squawking, some serious physical interactions not unlike a wrestling match, and a mighty flapping of wings and spinning of small brown bodies, as the pair floated, interlocked, out along the surface of the water itself. (I admit that while I  have been watching birds for quite some time, I have never seen anything like it.) I couldn't tell if they were courting or fighting. Maybe some of both? Get a room, you two!

A huge, fluffy robin walked along the boardwalk in front of me, then took flight, landing near the water and pausing to create a perfect reflection of its orange-red breast as it bent down and drank. A mallard flew overhead, splashing down not far from where I stood. Its bright green head looked both soft and shiny at the same time, like plush green velvet. Three starlings huddled together in the morning chill at the tippy-top of a tree. High above the center of the marsh, a thick bottle shape perched in the branches: a hawk looked down, watching for its next meal.

The real story of the day, though, was the red-winged blackbirds. The females are a rather streaky combination of browns, not unlike a song sparrow (though quite a bit larger). But the males are black and shiny, and they look like they are wearing black silk capes with startlingly red epaulets on their shoulders; sometimes you can even catch a glimpse of the golden yellow stripe along the red.

It was a very active morning. The red-winged blackbirds were flying all around me, often stopping to perch on top of cat-o-nine-tails and sometimes snacking on them. They had lots to say about everything, and their whole bodies got into the act: a bird would perch on a cat-o-nine-tail, stretch out its black wings, and then put its whole body effort into it: both singing loud love songs (O my darling, my darling, my dearest, what can I say to make you love me?!), and hurling enthusiastic insults at any competitors who came near (I'm tougher than you! Gonna beat you up if you come closer! I mean it!).

Ah, the sweet and raucous song of spring. A song of love; a song of war. It is an old, old song: the song of spring at the end of a long, long winter. The singers may change, but the song remains the same.

The soundtrack:  Led Zeppelin, The Song Remains the Same.

Bonus link: Learn more about the red-winged blackbird and hear its song here.