Birds

Every birder has probably heard the – most likely untrue – story about starlings being introduced to the US by some Shakespeare fan who wanted to bring all birds appearing in Shakespeare’s world to the US. Interestingly, starlings play only a very minor role in his works – they get mentioned exactly once, in Henry IV, Part 1. So, not really the ideal candidate for a culturally motivated introduction program. And only one species out of about 60-65 species mentioned in all of Shakespeare’s work – the exact number is not easy to specify, as Shakespeare seems to have been more of a lumper than a splitter, thus speaking of herons, buntings, or owls rather than (as the archetypal splitter would nowadays) specify the bunting as a Long-crested Northern Reed Bunting (a name I just made up, of course – no worries, Peter, you did not miss another reed bunting species). Listing 60-65 species in a blog post is generally considered boring. However, there are some birds that are a bit more prominent in Shakespeare – and add a bit more meaning – than others. And thanks to ChatGPT (hey, do you think I would work on a post like this for three or four hours knowing that about 12 people will read it, and of these, 5 just to show me that I am wrong), here is a simple table with such “meaningful” birds and their meaningful meaning. BirdTypical Shakespearean associationsRavenDeath, evil omens, battlefields, prophecyOwlNight, doom, ill omen, secrecyEagleRoyalty, power, nobilityFalcon / HawkAristocracy, hunting, control, passionCrow / RookBad omens, commonness, carrionDove / Turtle DoveLove, fidelity, gentlenessSwanBeauty, music, death (“swan song”)LarkMorning, joy, lovers separating at dawnNightingalePoetry, music, melancholy, loveCock / RoosterDawn, vigilance, masculinityGooseFoolishness, cowardice, comic insultSparrowSmallness, vulnerability, everyday lifePeacockVanity, prideCuckooAdultery and cuckoldryWrenSmall but spirited; humilityKitePredatory greed, scavengingPelicanSelf-sacrifice (medieval symbolism)StarlingMimicry, chatterHeronFalconry imagery, aristocratic sportWoodcockFoolishness, gullibility And that is it. I am just reading a wonderful series of mysteries (the Charles Paris series by Simon Brett, which I can recommend wholeheartedly), and that made me think of Shakespeare and birds. Interestingly, some of the observations in Shakespeare’s plays are surprisingly accurate. Apparently (of course, I am relying on secondary literature here), he knew of crows and ravens scavenging, cuckoos laying in other birds’ nests, falcon training, larks singing at dawn, and wrens aggressively defending nests. And (again, a different topic at the end) a music recommendation – the rather wonderful (I think this is a John Peel expression, but that is fine with me) song “Free from the Guillotine” by Ryan Davis & the Roadhouse Band. Which starts with the wonderful line “You got a new tattoo of an old tattoo” and gets better from there, though in a very relaxed way (the song duration is 8 minutes and 23 seconds, and I wish it were longer). Illustration: Oriental Scops Owl. The author acknowledges that this owl is entirely out of place and has decided to proceed anyway.

After the last round of posters, a couple of readers raised an unexpectedly philosophical concern: whether birds might be slipping into existential despair, or—more intriguingly—whether a few especially pessimistic species might actually find the whole thing rather uplifting. In response, the birds have neither confirmed nor denied anything, but the series continues regardless, now with a fresh set of observations from the field of avian psychology.

Every spring, northern Arizona receives a brief but unforgettable visitor. Along cottonwood-lined creeks, brushy canyon trails, and quiet woodland edges, flashes of brilliant blue begin appearing in the sunrise glow. For birdwatchers and photographers alike, the arrival of the Lazuli Bunting (Passerina amoena) is one of the season’s small miracles and a vivid signal that migration is underway across the Southwest. The male Lazuli Bunting is difficult to mistake once you see one clearly. Its blue head and back seem almost tropical against the subdued greens and browns of early spring, while its soft cinnamon breast and crisp white wing bars complete the striking combination. Females are far more subtle, dressed in soft brown tones that help them disappear into dense shrubs and streamside vegetation. In northern Arizona, Lazuli Buntings typically begin appearing in April, with migration continuing through May. For some birds, Arizona is only a temporary stop along a much longer journey. After wintering primarily in western and central Mexico, they move north through the deserts and canyons of the Southwest toward breeding grounds in the Rocky Mountains, the Pacific Northwest, and even southern Canada. Others remain in suitable habitat across Arizona through the summer breeding season before beginning their southbound migration later in the year. One of the best parts of spring birding is never quite knowing where a Lazuli Bunting might appear. I often notice them first by movement. A small shape darting from a shrub to an exposed branch, followed by the bright, jumbled song of the male as he claims a perch above the surrounding brush. Riparian corridors seem especially attractive to them. Creeks bordered by willows, mesquites, cottonwoods, or thick undergrowth provide shelter, food, and nesting habitat during their stay. Because many migrating buntings may only remain in one area for a few days or weeks, encounters might feel like they are fleeting. One morning, a canyon may seem empty, and the next, it suddenly holds three or four males glowing in the fresh spring light. Their arrival frequently coincides with warmer temperatures, leafing trees, and the return of other migratory songbirds, forming a sense that the entire landscape is waking up after winter. For photographers, the Lazuli Bunting offers both loveliness and challenge. Their constant movement through tangled branches can test patience, and strong midday light rarely does their colors justice. Early morning or late midday light usually produces the best results, especially when the bird pauses briefly on an open perch. One lesson many bird photographers learn over time is that the background matters almost as much as the bird itself. In classic bird portraits, the background is often rendered into a soft blur that helps separate the subject from its surroundings and creates a stronger sense of depth. This effect is known as shallow depth of field and is achieved by using a wider aperture. Settings such as f/4 or f/5.6 are ideal for creating this softer background effect. When the vegetation behind the bird falls out of focus, the Lazuli Bunting’s vivid blue plumage becomes even more striking. Positioning yourself so there is a greater distance between the bird, and the background can further enhance the effect, turn busy branches and leaves into smooth washes of color. Even with careful technique, photographing Lazuli Buntings often calls for patience and luck. Sometimes the best moments last only seconds, a male singing in open sunlight or pausing long enough for the shutter to click before vanishing back into the brush. By midsummer, many Lazuli Buntings begin drifting south again, eventually returning to their winter range in Mexico. Their time in northern Arizona is relatively short, which may be part of what makes them so memorable. For a few weeks each spring, these brilliant songbirds bring flashes of color and motion to canyon trails and creek beds across the region, rewarding anyone willing to slow down and watch carefully.

For our Old World readers, Vireos are the 35 members of the single New World genus bearing that name. They look rather similar to our more colorful Wood Warblers, also exclusive to the New World, and a few look very much like the Kinglets found across the northern hemisphere. Vireos are distinguished from the members of those families by the their heavier hooked bills. The Mexican state of Michoacán, where I live, is rich in Vireos. I have seen 11 of the genus’ 35 species here, as well as an emblematic Shrike-Vireo from another genus in the same Vireonidae family. Five (Cassin’s, Plumbeous, Blue-headed, Black-headed, and Bell’s) spend winters here but reproduce in the U.S. and Canada. The Hutton’s Vireo is non-migratory but is resident in both western Mexico and the western United States. Most Western Warbling Vireos migrate from the U.S. to Mexico, but some remain in central Mexico year-round. Yellow-green Vireos actually winter in South America and migrate north to Mexico to breed. Golden, Slaty, and Dwarf Vireos are all endemic residents of Mexico, as is the larger Chestnut-sided Shrike-Vireo. In April I went out with my birder buddy Jonathan Vargas for what turned out to be a very Vireo-rich trip. Jonathan, who has been working hard to find reliable sites for all of Michoacan’s endemics so he can include them in birding tours he leads, was eager to see if a promising new site might be a good place to see our endemic Dwarf Vireo. And indeed it was. But we also ended up seeing exactly half of my 12 Michoacán vireos in a single day. I’ll start with those Dwarf Vireos. True to their name, these are the smallest of all Vireos. Although Hutton’s Vireos can also be just under four inches long (3.9 inches, or 10 cm long), Hutton’s can reach larger sizes than the largest Dwarf Vireos. All other Vireos are at least 15% larger than Dwarf Vireos. Their small size makes these Vireos look disproportionately cabezón (large-headed). The reason Jonathan was so interested in Dwarf Vireos is because they are an endemic that is, well, unusually endemic. You can only see them from central Mexico all the way to… central Mexico. We saw three in a single day. Each of our endemic Dwarf Vireos seemed to have a migratory Cassin’s Vireo stalking it. Cassin’s Vireos are quite a bit larger than Dwarf Vireos, and wear sharply defined white “eyeglasses” rather than the white “superhero mask” of the Dwarf. I didn’t manage photos of the day’s one Plumbeous Vireo, but if you take away the yellow wash on the Cassin’s flanks, you get the idea. Plumbeous Vireos are entirely gray and white. My photos of the day’s Hutton’s Vireos weren’t great, but were just good enough to show their eyering which is interrupted at the top, giving them a perturbed look. They share this eyering with the surprisingly similar Ruby-crowned Kinglet. That frowning eye goes well with their disgruntled raspy calls. As mentioned above, I achieved no photos at all of the day’s Plumbeous Vireos, or the bright yellow Golden Vireos we saw. But that was certainly not the case for one of our emblematic Chestnut-sided Shrike-Vireos. He chose to get very up-close and personal. Of course, no single genus can be responsible for all the good images from a single day, especially one with a total of 84 species seen. So I’ll share a few photos from other familes before closing. A Painted Redstart showed off two of its talents: 1) bark acrobatics, and 2) repeatedly snapping its tail open, a habit which gives these birds their Mexican common name of pavito (little turkey). Seeing a male Hooded Grosbeak was an exciting and rather rare treat. While more common, a Squirrel Cuckoo and a Blue Mockingbird gave me some evocative images. It was quite a day, considering we were trying out an entirely new site.

In our household, we love trivia. We look forward to the trivia column in our local newspaper each Sunday and eagerly participate in trivia contests. My husband is the trivia quizmaster for a local weekly seniors’ program. I thought I would share some interesting bird facts here. The answers to these questions are shown below. What is the fastest bird on land? What is the fastest bird in flight? What bird has the largest wingspan? What bird flies the highest? What is the smallest bird? What bird feeds with its head upside down? Which birds have the largest flocks? What is the collective name for a group of Northern Cardinals? What bird is the current record holder for world’s oldest wild bird? What bird is the most common in the world? Now, the answers.  The Ostrich can reach running speeds of up to 70 km/h (43 mph). It outruns predators with strides of up to 16 feet. The Peregrine Falcon is the fastest bird and fastest animal on earth. It has diving speeds of over 320 km/h (200 mph) and it reaches top speeds exceeding 380 km/h (240 mph) during its stoop (hunting dive). The Wandering Albatross has a wing span of 3.5 metres (11.5 ft), from wing tip to wing tip. The highest flying bird is the Rüppell’s Vulture of Africa. It has been confirmed that this bird has flown at an altitude of 11,300 metres (37,000 ft) above sea level. They can reach heights comparable to cruising jets, helped by specialized hemoglobin that lets them breathe in low-oxygen environments. The smallest bird in the world is the Bee Hummingbird, which is only found in Cuba. Males measure 5.5 cm (2.1 inches). They weigh less than two grams. The Flamingo feeds with its head upside down. It swings its bill from side to side, filtering small organisms out of the mud. Birds that form large flocks include starlings (murmurations), blackbirds, Red-billed Queleas, shorebirds, geese, and cranes. A group of Northern Cardinals can be called a conclave, a college, a vatican, or a radiance. The bird’s name was inspired by the red robes worn by Roman Catholic cardinals. The longest-living wild bird is Wisdom, a female Laysan Albatross, estimated to be 75 years old as of 2025. The domestic chicken, with an estimated population of 20 – 30 billion, is the most common bird in the world. This question stumped everyone at a trivia event we attended. Note: Cartoon of Northern Cardinal at top of column generated by Google Gemini.