by George Jacobi
Sometime in mid February, winter will blink, grudgingly admitting that the longer days mean spring is winning. Despite dirty snow still banked high along roads, increased trickles of ground water rising at a benign 52 degrees will initiate ice melting in the shallowest parts of shallow ponds, bogs, and marshes.
These days of promise arrive before the equinox, before Atwood Farm’s goldfinches begin turning yellow, before woodcocks swoop at dusk near Pigeon Swamp, before Hubbard’s skunk cabbages and wood frogs, and before the march of Allanach salamanders.
But not before flocks of dark birds fresh from southern climes can sometimes be found bickering on cornfields and farmland where the sun has begun melting snow. Look closely; along with the grackles, starlings, and cowbirds, there may be male red-winged blackbirds. These early emigrants will soon find ice-free openings in Joshua’s Trust wetlands, perch on last year’s dried cattail stalks, and brazenly announce spring.
Who will be the first to see and hear them? This contest begins now.
I’d try a small shallow pond or swamp in the sun, where the water will warm up quickly. Here’s another clue: they migrate in daylight. All those dark birds may winter over too; in 1976-77, the CT Christmas count showed 62,000 redwings! (Does it seem like the list of migratory birds gets shorter and that of year-round birds gets longer all the time? Yes, it’s not your imagination.) If you see the scarlet epaulets of the red-winged blackbirds, you won’t mistake them. Nor will you if you hear their call.
“Konk-la-ree,” says Peterson’s Guide. “Oog-la-yee,” replies Heinrich in One Bird at a Time, calling it a “cheerful yodel” (what? most others describe the sound as a rusty gate). Sibley: “Kon-ka-reee.” Edwin Way Teale: “Okale-e-e-e”.
I’ll go with “Here I BE.”
No matter how you spell it, it’s loud and proud. That aggressive male can have up to 15 female partners. RWBs are now found from Central America to Alaska, despite their population being far less than it once was (like many birds) due to the reforestation of farmland, the filling-in of wetlands, and even deliberate poisoning to protect crops.
In A Naturalist Buys an Old Farm, Teale describes how it was at Trail Wood: “to hear what we have looked forward to hearing during the gales of winter — the commingled voices of the male blackbirds, that tumult of calling, that Niagara of sound, that speaks of all the excitement of spring.”
Yes, spring is coming. More hope. Who will be first to report the Trust’s 2025 red-winged blackbirds? You can’t win if you don’t play.
RWB photos courtesy of ©Geoff Winningham