“INVASION OF AN AVIAN NIGHTMARE,” or “A MAGNIFICENT VISITATION?”

A few weeks ago, I received an an email from a local resident, one that had been addressed to many other recipients on the local community email list. I do not recall the exact title of the email, but it was something similar to “A Magnificent Visitation.” Attached to the email was a brief video depicting a flock of several hundred birds flying in coordinated patterns over the desert. The grace and wonder of birds in flight cannot be denied. I am sure that the sender of that email had nothing but good intentions. People liked the video. One neighbor even chimed in with comments referring to her happiness at seeing so many of these same birds at her feeders.

I was alarmed when I saw the video. I immediately recognized the birds in flight as a flock of brown-headed cowbirds. This was a larger flock of that species than I had ever seen in the valley. NOT good! Allow me to explain:

Brown-headed cowbirds are nest parasites (also known as “brood parasites”). They do not build nests nor do they incubate eggs or raise their own young. Those favors come from other birds, a list that tops over  220 species, including a wide variety of our songbirds. Female cowbirds are experts at finding the nests of other birds. They quickly lay their eggs during brief times when the host birds leave their nests to feed or seek water. Most birds do not recognize the alien egg, and proceed to incubate it as their own. When the egg hatches, a tiny, blind, featherless cowbird emerges to shove any remaining eggs or previously hatched young out of the nest. It remains there alone, to be fed and fledged by its unwitting foster parents, be they sparrows, warblers, vireos, or other species like the dazzling lazuli bunting pictured above.

Male and female brown-headed cowbirds. Photo © Tom Talbott, Jr (www.tomtalbottjr.com)

The original niche that nature had carved out for brown-headed cowbirds in the area we now know as the United States was that of a prairie grassland bird that was closely associated with herds of roaming bison. The bison broke up the soil with their heavy hooves as they moved, exposing a banquet of food for ground-foraging cowbirds. There were other races of cowbirds in a few other locations, such as the inter-montane grasslands of central British Columbia. However, I do not believe that brown-headed cowbirds are native to southern Arizona. They are a relatively recent introduced species, likely first appearing here when they followed large herds of cattle that were driven into the region in the 1800s by Euro-American settlers.

The story of these birds does not sound so bad until one realizes some important aspects of their ecology coupled with the plight of our declining songbirds. Brown-headed cowbirds are flying egg factories. A single female cowbird can lay up to three dozen eggs in three dozen songbird nests every year. Considering that an average songbird nest would normally raise three or more young birds, that adds up to over 100 songbirds destroyed by each female cowbird every year.

A cowbird chick begging for food from its foster parent, a yellow warbler. This warbler would have produced at least three young were it not for its nest being parasitized by a cowbird. Photo © Tom Talbot, (www.tomtalbottjr.com)

North America’s songbirds have been rapidly declining in recent decades due to a variety of factors, all caused directly or indirectly by the activities of mankind. Here in southeastern Arizona, cowbirds are impacting our dwindling bird populations seriously. Like tumbleweed, buffle grass, or other non-native species, they are capable of wreaking havoc on ecosystems like this one that they are not endemic to. As a native species, the brown-headed cowbird is protected under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act… but native to where? What ecoregions? 

I won’t tell my readers how I react to the presence of cowbirds here on our property, but I’d bet some of you can guess. All life is deeply beautiful and all life should be respected and revered. As I grow older, I embrace such tenets more and more deeply, but there are times when one must act to protect certain things. I never kill rattlesnakes, for example, even the ones that commonly sleep under our ramada, but when mice get into the engine compartments of our vehicles, decisive action is essential. Brown-headed cowbirds? Never welcome here.

A RAVEN’S UNFORGETTABLE COURTSHIP DISPLAY, RARELY SEEN!

“One thousand feet above the valley floor, a large bird cuts an arc across a universe of clear azure sky. The bird is black, so black that it pierces a hole in the heavens, a mysterious place where all light gathers to coalesce into an extraordinary being. It is a creature wrapped in a cloak that dines on light, a creature that melts into the darkness of midnight but lives to greet the morning sun. It is an exquisite merging of feather and form, a fusion of mind and voice that we know as the raven.”

That is how I opened the essay on ravens in my new book, The Life of the San Pedro River. I have nurtured an ever-growing fascination and respect for ravens since my teenage years. Here in southeastern Arizona, my wife and I share land with a pair of Chihuahuan ravens that we have known quite closely for the past nine years. They are Mike and Mavis. Their lives have been undergoing an exciting change during the past month.

Mike maintains a daily presence here, forever welcome. His mate is almost always close by.

For six consecutive years, Mike and Mavis raised annual broods of young ravens in a nest located in a mesquite tree only 110 feet from our home. However, during the past two years, they moved to a new nesting site on a neighbor’s property some 300 yards distant, again in a tall mesquite. We missed them!

Mike digging with his beak. Chihuahuan ravens commonly cache food items for later use. Some food is placed in the crotches of trees. Far more often, these birds dig holes, drop a morsel of food into the hole, then cover the food with an inch or two of soil. Equipped with exceptional minds, ravens have no trouble relocating their numerous, well-hidden caches, even weeks later.

Despite the fact that ravens have stout, formidable claws, I have never seen them use their feet for digging, as other birds do.

Four weeks ago, I looked out my office window to see Mike fly by with a stick in his mouth. He was not heading south towards the distant nest site, but instead flew about 100 feet to the north and lit in a mesquite, where he placed the stick. That got my attention! As I watched during the days that followed, it became clear that a new nest was being built on our property.

The pair bonding between adult ravens may be closer and longer lasting than any other North American birds. Mike and Mavis are together year-round; feeding, foraging, nesting, exploring, and sleeping as a pair. That’s Mike on the left; note his thicker neck, larger head, and bigger body in comparison to his female companion.

Watching ravens build a nest is a lesson in patience, determination, and tenacity. Branch after branch is carefully selected, then carried aloft to the tree. By “carefully selected,” I mean just that – if a stick is partially rotted or otherwise infirm, it won’t do. Each stick must be within certain parameters with respect to weight, thickness and length. Once a suitable stick is found, it is skillfully balanced in the beak for the flight to the nest, then placed in a manner that is anything but random. For three weeks, I watched as hundreds upon hundreds of sticks left the forest floor to become airborne, a reverse journey back into the canopy they had sprung from. A nest took shape, growing deeper day by day. Three weeks passed, then Mike and Mavis abruptly changed their behavior. Stick gathering  had been completed, so it became time to line the nest with soft, fluffy materials. Scouring the neighborhood, the ravens found lengths of discarded baling twine, clumps of horse and deer hair, even pieces of cardboard that they ripped from a box that had been stored in an open shed. Now fully complete, the nest awaits its purpose. Soon, Mavis will lay her eggs and a new generation of some of the most intelligent birds on Earth will come into being.

The newly constructed Raven Hilton, built in the branches of a velvet mesquite. If all goes well, we will soon hear new voices emanating from the nest. Hatchling ravens produce low-volume, unique sounds that rapidly increase in volume and complexity as they grow.

One morning during the nest-lining period, both ravens came gliding through the trees to land on the ground within a dozen feet of my wife and I as we were seated under the ramada. Some very delicate, amorous preening followed as Mike ran his beak through Mavis’s neck and chest feathers. The birds were conversing with one another as this took place, uttering a soft language known only to them, a language marked by the deep-seated intimacy of a life-long pair bond that can last more than a quarter century. The preening done, Mike ambled over to within a dozen feet of us. There, he began a courtship display, hoping to win his mate’s admiration and acceptance. He lowered his stance until his body was almost flat on the ground, then fanned his tail wide. He partially opened his wings and erected the feathers on the crown of his head. His sleek indigo-black body quivered as he made a series of soft, percussive snaps with his stout beak. We were very lucky to witness this, and even luckier to get a few photographs. Only a few scant minutes of each year are dedicated to such interludes in the lives of ravens, interludes that maintain the circle of life.

Mike performing his courtship display.

As I was just about to hit the “publish” button to launch this blog post, a sudden drama unfolded just outside my office window. A red-tailed hawk made the mistake of flying too close to the new raven nest. Mike took off at high speed, chasing and diving on the hawk relentlessly. Ravens are masters of flight, a fact quickly apparent to anyone who has watched such events unfold. With very quick, elegant turns, dives, and rolls he chased the raptor for more than 250 yards before finally returning to the nest site. I have watched this pair of ravens defend their nesting sites with great vigor and determination many times. They have given brave and vociferous chase to coyotes, bobcats, a gray fox, many hawks, and more over the years. Anyone reading this who has raised children should understand such actions. I was once charged – repeatedly – by a ruffed grouse defending its chicks. Mind you, that is a bird no larger than your average chicken. I know of a Montana grizzly bear that charged and bit a slow-moving locomotive three times after the train hit one of her cubs. Motherhood and the protection of one’s young are among nature’s most powerful and important forces.

For much more on these incredible, amazing birds, read the essay entitled “Mike and Mavis” in The Life of the San Pedro River

For an even deeper journey into the fascinating lives of ravens, I highly recommend these two books, written by Dr. Bernd Heinrich, an astute biologist and acclaimed author: Ravens in Winter, and Mind of the Raven.