No Country for Little Birds

may my heart always be open to little
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old
- e.e. cummings

Inspired by these lines from e.e. cummings and fond recollections of my weekly duck feedings near my old apartment, I recently purchased a bird feeder. I picked out an inexpensive model that suction-cups to a window and was delighted by the idea that I would awake every morning to pleasant and discreetly chirping flocks of chickadees and nuthatches (the types of birds promised by the bag of seed I purchased) feeding only a few feet from my bed. Alas, this was not to be.

My plans immediately began to go awry when I discovered that the suction cup that worked so well on the side of a vitamin water display at Wal-Mart was not strong enough to hold to the window when the feeder was full of seed. Undeterred, I climbed out on the roof and hung my feeder from an overhanging tree branch and reconciled myself to putting my glasses on each morning to watch the birds. A few weeks passed with no bird sightings, only squirrels who didn't even bother to climb up to the feeder - plenty of seeds fall down to the rooftop whenever the slightest breeze blows. Finally about a week ago I received my first genuine avian visitor - a blue jay. Despite their impressive plumage, blue jays were low on my list of desired birds as they have an annoying call and are notoriously aggressive and unfriendly to smaller more melodious species. However, given my lack of birds to this point I was open to any species and even managed to overlook the fact that the blue jay - like the squirrels - ignored the feeder itself and ate directly from the rooftop.

This weekend I awoke to frantic squawking and looked out to see a largish dark brown bird trashing my feeder while two of his comrades raucously cheered him on from a nearby branch. I didn't get my glasses on fast enough to identify the birds and they flew away, leaving my feeder completely empty, seeds strewn all over the roof. I brushed off the assault as an isolated incident and refilled my feeder, optimistically telling myself that it was only a matter of time before word got out amongst the other birds about the free food. I was foolish and naive. The very next morning the overhanging tree was full of large, angry birds with dark brown bodies and blue heads who were taking turns swooping down and spilling seed from my violently rocking feeder to the waiting masses on the rooftop. I tried rapping on the glass, but they continued on undeterred. When the feeder was nearly empty they moved on, taking up residence in a treetop across the street.

I did some research at my local library and learned that I had been visited by grackles - a notoriously thuggish species of bird. Grackles are distinguished by their song which is described as "a harsh, unmusical "readle-eak," like a rusty gate" (click here to listen to a sample). The Cornell Lab of Ornithology site also lists "Cool Facts" about each species; the grackle is noted for "taking advantage of whatever food sources it can find. It will follow plows for invertebrates and mice, wade into water to catch small fish, and sometimes kill and eat other birds at bird feeders." This rather grim "cool fact" was confirmed when further research yielded this chilling video.