Mystery bird

Yesterday at Maplewood Flats, North Vancouver, occupied Coast Salish territories, a brown bird was fluttering in a tree and eating blossoms when it dropped this song. Can you help me return it to him? Mystery bird by Blacksquirrel

Mystery bird was brown, with a heavily streaked breast, a moderately thick beak (sparrow/finch-like), a long, slender, notched tail, house finch-like. Size of a large sparrow, bit smaller than a thrush. Feeding in a tree, then in bramble thicket. Very active, bursting into song in the middle of a mouthful and dropping the flower it had just plucked! Any ideas?

Update
It has been suggested by a more knowledgeable birder than myself that this might be a Purple Finch imitating a Swainson's Thrush. It does sound like a cross between the Purple Finch's song and the Swainson's Thrush's! However if it was a Purple Finch, then it wasn't an adult male, because it didn't have any colour apart from brown and whitish. Also I've heard it (though not seen it) both times I've been back to Maplewood Flats since I made the recording. So would an immature male be practicing his vocals by very consistently and repeatedly borrowing another bird's song? It might enable him to avoid the ire of territorial males... Though I haven't noticed any other Purple Finches. Also, I haven't noticed any Swainson's Thrushes, so where would a juvenile have learned their song? Surely a year-old finch is no longer a juvenile, right? Or would a female Purple Finch have discovered a musical yearning? There was I assuming only male songbirds sang! Many questions still to be explored...

"The Purple Finch (sober-colored) is a rich singer. As I said the other day, something like a Warbling-Vireo, only louder, clearer, mellower and more various." - Henry David Thoreau


Update 2
The plot thickens as I find out that male Purple Finches take 2 years to get their adult plumage; first year males look like females. So maybe this is a one year-old male who heard the Swainson's Thrush last year and is singing it again this year before the actual Swainson's Thrushes have returned.

The magical song of the Swainson's Thrush is a harbinger of the return of summer and the season of plenty in the Pacific Northwest. In several First Nation languages along the coast of British Columbia it is known as "Salmonberry Bird" because its song rises from the thickets at the same time as the salmonberries start to ripen. In several languages such as Saanich, the song even lists the different colors and kinds of salmonberries (golden, red, dark...).

Would a hungry Purple Finch be trying to hasten the ripening of the berries?

Deer's News

COTW endeavours to bring you news from those who don't tend to make their way into conventional media. Today, news from Deer, whom I met while striding through the light forest of Maplewood Flats. Since she wasn't going anywhere for a while, I sat down too and had a chat. 

COTW: I'm grateful for your time and welcome, Deer. Blessings to you and yours.

Deer: Thanks for being quiet, also thanks for your interest. Blessings to all your relations.

COTW: What's been going on around here lately?

Deer: As you see, the grass has been growing. That's good.

COTW: Tasty?

Deer: Comfortable, actually. I'll stick to brambles and shrubs when I'm hungry. The shoots are still nice and tender. Try some!

COTW: Indeed, it's pleasant to chew on young bramble leaves! (Note: at this point I actually did chew some bramble leaves, to be agreeable at first, then because they actually taste good).

Deer: Also have you noticed? The Twinberry is flowering. It's amusing to Towhee. The Bigleaf Maple is in flower too; good hunting ground for warblers looking for insects: Wilson's Warbler, Yellow-Rumped Warbler and their congeners.

The Twinberry mentioned by Deer

Bidleaf Maple flowers

COTW: You seem pretty relaxed. Haven't met any predators lately?

Deer: Cougar came through recently [as reported by COTW], but it's not a regular phenomenon. You never know, so I listen to the rustles in the thicket. Also Bobcat is around a lot. I need to look out for them too, seeing as I'm pretty weak.

COTW: Why's that?

Deer: Let me show you [gets up]. I have what's been called "deer hair loss syndrome". Appropriate. Also, an understatement. I've been scratching and rubbing a lot, it's these european deer lice. They're terrible. We black-tailed deer and other mule deer are most affected. We're hypersensitive, see. White-tailed deer not so much. Bummer. My mom has it too.

Deer scratching, showing symptoms of "deer hair loss syndrome"

Deer: Dude you make me nervous when you sit so still. At this time when the light is fading I can't see you when you're still, you know? My sight isn't as good as yours, so knowing you're there but not seeing you is freaky.
COTW: OK sorry about that. I'll have some more blackberry leaves.

Deer: You do that, I'll be on my way. Been resting for a while before you got here.

COTW: Thanks for sharing the news of the forest! I wish you the best with your lice problem. See you around!

Deer: Alright. Keep your ears sharp. 

***Translation from Deer language by COTW***

Crow curse lifted

(Not one of the actual crows from the story, but one doing
an acceptable imitation of a couple of them)

It is a well kept secret among crows that they can curse you. Some people get an uncanny feeling from crows, others are attracted to their mystique and dark aura, others despise them or fear them. Few are indifferent. Yet fewer still take seriously the crow's mastery of the dark arts. This was a mistake I committed recently.

I was happily trespassing in a forested area (well, at the time I didn't know I was trespassing, I'll get back to that toward the end), enhancing a path by putting logs to channel bipedal traffic along the path and away from the undergrowth, when I noticed a rather agitated crow. I knew it was agitated, and more precisely agitated at me, because it would look at me, cawing at the top of its voice, and peck with all its might at the branch it stood on, making it abundantly clear that it was picturing my head in its talons and not a tree limb. I noted this, and the presence of another crow, also upset but less intent on threatening the physical integrity of my scalp. I assumed a nest must be nearby, and my branch-moving antics were unwanted in the neighborhood.

It was shortly after this that my fate was sealed. Under some litter, I spotted a skull. It was the skull of a crow. "Wow!" I thought, "I haven't found a bird skull in years!" So I picked up said skull and walked away, absent-mindedly thanking the crows for their "gift", though noticing that they were still as transparent in their vehement desire to shred my skin and puncture my every vital organ with great beaked gusto.

After this, I walked home, showing my find on the way to neighbor Dave, who asked whether I had made an offering in return. I felt a bit chagrinned to be receiving spiritual instruction from Dave, but I mentioned having broadcasted a mental "thank you" upon leaving. Next, scanning the surroundings, my eyes were caught by a cloud of small feathers floating down from a garage roof. Looking up, I beheld the body of a Varied Thrush, disemboweled and bouncing helplessly under the rhythmic assaults of... a large crow's beak. The crow then seized its prize (which I assume it had acquired from a hawk or bald eagle), and flew with it across the road, to another garage roof. There it proceeded to finish plucking and devouring the hapless songbird.

After a while I returned to see what was left, and found the two wings joined by the sternum; mostly blood-stained feathers and bone and very little meat. I wanted to get some feathers, but when I moved forward the crow lunged out of the nearby red-cedar and swooped down on me yelling and swearing! It perched on the phone wire and seemed to consider using it to model what its beak would do to my tender flesh were I to tempt it, but decided against it and stuck to vocally abusing me. Every time I stepped toward the remnants of the carcass I was mobbed and assaulted with raucous utterances of condemnation.

Returning home utterly castigated, I put the skull on my bed-side table. I expected it might give me some kind of dreams, not least likely nightmares. But that, sadly didn't occur. I did, however, become sick. Not bed-ridden kind of sick, more sinus-irritated, runny-nosed, tired kind of sick.

So after a few days, I admitted to myself that appropriating the skull had maybe been a bad idea. I decided to return it to the location I had taken it from. It was cloudy and drizzly and gray, but I made my way to the park. I was engrossed in observing a robin and several passing ruby-crowned kinglets when someone beckoned to me and told me that the children from the nearby school would be in recess soon. Startled our of my trance, I thanked them for the heads up, though I found it strange that someone would think of warning me of the impending appearance of children. Still I returned my attention to the robin, but only a few moments later was recalled by a stern "excuse me, sir." This time when I turned around, I realized I was in the presence of two police officers! Well, my morning sure was becoming interesting. This is when I was informed that I was in effect trespassing on school ground, albeit an area of school ground that the children are prohibited from entering (it's dirty and full of bugs, you know). I remarked that everyone in the neighborhood seemed to enjoy walking their dog along the well-worn path, but that didn't appear to amuse. My information was taken, and I vacated the premises, after maybe 2 minutes of first arriving in this spot I have visited a couple dozen times without incident.

So I made my way along the paved sidewalk, which I'm allowed to wear down my shoes on. This is the last commons of the modern folk. Though you shouldn't try staying in one place for too long, or, heavens forbid, sitting or lying on it. I reached the spot I was aiming for from the other end, and swiftly deposited the skull in a hidden location next to a red-cedar, along with 9 horse-chestnuts that I collected last autumn. The first thing I noticed upon leaving the darkness of the tree-cover was that it was sunny now. In fact, I had to look far into the distance to see any trace of clouds. Wasn't it just raining? As I walked home I looked up and saw a crow waiting on a balcony rail. A second crow joined the first one, and they flew up to the roof together, where the first crow fetched some food that had been stashed in the gutter and fed it to his begging mate. I was glad that this time I was leaving with a vision of love ("allofeeding" is the term for a male feeding a mate during courting), rather than a heinous vociferation of gore-spattered aspirations.

I know you would be skeptical if I said that I felt in full health again in the blink of an eye. In truth, I came home and slept for several hours that afternoon. I feel better now, and in the morning I will surely feel much replenished.

The morale of this story though is that the more I train my awareness to decipher the land and its inhabitants, the more fascinating dimensions are revealed. The effect of my mind's processes on my surroundings and the reciprocal impact of other beings on my life, even in previously unbelievable ways, become increasingly palpable. Episodes like this one, like the cougar tracks I followed a few days ago, are signs that my awareness is becoming greater and my senses are tuning in to the wilderness around me. Had I not payed attention, I might have ignored the crow's anger in the first place, or dismissed "that loud bird" as another unexplainable phenomena of nature. I might not have spotted the thrush becoming dinner, would not have been curious to the point of wanting to approach to see what the wing feathers are like and therefore not been mobbed. In response to being sick I might have taken some pills and waited to get better again, gone back to my day job, and never allowed myself to think this had anything to do with the skull now gathering dust on a shelf. None of this would have had any meaning. Coincidences. Non-events. Only by regaining my sensory participation in the world does the meaning of these experiences unfold. Do you think your experiences have meaning? When was the last time you looked at a crow? Can you recall an occasion when a wild animal's behavior indicated that it recognized you as a unique individual?

INTERNATIONAL BREAKING NEWS: Eagle Owl Chick Regains Freedom

"You're so not my mother... Moooom!"

This just in from one informant in France (known as "Dwee"): an Eagle Owl chick was saved from its impending demise in a private back yard by a well-intentioned biped. The austere-looking youth was promptly returned to its home on the cliff, where it proceeded to sit rather despondently, muttering something about the food being unnatural (while the chicken leg was accepted reluctantly, the minced meat patties were pointedly ignored). No further comment could be obtained. The Guild of Eagle Owls however did wish to extend their gratitude to the individual "Wolly" for his actions, and mentioned that Eagle Owls would be recommended to treat him with deference in the future.

Savior "Wolly" releases chick, wears T-shirt with marxist slogan.
(identity concealed to protect against paparazzis)

The Eurasian Eagle Owl is the largest owl (a position hotly disputed by the Blakiston's Fish Owl), and can eat young deer and foxes, not to mention crows and other raptors. In a feat that would defy the most skilled Fakir, Eagle Owls can also swallow a hedgehog whole.

Apex predator in the making. Crows not delighted.

PS: Did you know? An Eagle Owl nicknamed "Bubi" was made citizen of the year in Helsinki, Finland, in 2007!