Wood Thrush-The Singer is come

Wood Thrush - The Singer is come

 For, lo, the winter is past,

 the rain is over and gone;
The flowers appear on the earth;

the time of the singing of birds is come,

 and the voice of the turtle

 is heard in our land;

Song of Solomon 2:11-12 (KJV) 

May 1, 2017 Finksburg: 

I knew that Spring had been fully fulfilled; Summer was upon us.
It was dusk of a bright, sunny Sunday afternoon when I parked and was about to unload my recent grocery purchases when I heard him.  Without a doubt, Summer was here. 


The Wood Thrush was singing in the Red Oaks close by the deck!

He was talking, two or three notes, pausing, then three or four, and pausing again, and so on.  I listened, and in each pause, from deep in the woods, came the answer.  Statement, response, question, answer..........this went on and on.  Conversation? perhaps.  Competitor? maybe.  Courtship? could be.


Mr. Sibley describes the Wood Thrush a "The largest of the spotted thrushes, with distinctive shape: potbelly, relatively large bill, and short tail", and pictures him/her in russet brown, white bib spotted with black dots*. Well Mr. Sibley has had a lot better luck than I:  Twenty years living in these woods and I've never had a really good look at this singer, but I know his voice.  Only ever saw him once and then only a darker image in a shadow.  Very shy, but oh, can he sing!
 
The notes of his song are brilliant, clear distinctive music; flowing like the mountain brook, the crystal flute in the Philharmonic.  It is a little like the song of the Redwing, but more delicate and not so flowing; some of the tones of his cousin, the Robin, but far more sophisticated and fine tuned;  Chantilly lace next on a cotton print apron.


Please don't misunderstand, I'm no bird expert.  Webster's assistance was required for the spelling of ornithology, but my ears are still good (albeit battery assisted) and I like good music, whether it be jazz or bluegrass, and this bird is a Joan Baez singing on the same stage as Bob Dylan; Dave Brubeck vs Jerry Lee Lewis.  (My metaphors and similes may also be a little gritty, but humor me, please.)


My friend usually shows up here around this time of year and spends the Summer, then goes South to some warmer location, presumably Central or South America, Sibley is not helpful here.  My experience is that he sings mostly in the magic times before sunrise and after sunset, times that good photographers love.

He was singing again this morning at first light; perhaps calling is a better word, pauses much shorter, he does not wait for an answer.  Having done very little reading on the subject, I am left to my imagination. so what I say next may not stand up to close scrutiny, but I believe the Wood Thrush sings first, along with other males, to attract a mate, then assists in the nest building, and, when the eggs are laid, sings to his mate at all hours as she sits the eggs. Perhaps he helps.  Once the fledglings arrive both partners' efforts are required to bring their necessary food, and the singing stops for the season.  Presumably their offspring are fed, nurtured, protected, trained and are ready to go with the Summer.  Their departure is done without notice.


So I wait and listen every Spring for my friend's announcement,
then every Summer when his singing stops, I wonder,  "How many more?"


fr




*David Allen Sibley, The Sibley Guide to Birds, Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. New York