 | Following up on last week’s posting of the Whistling Straits Mockingbird, I wanted to comment on a showy display in which these birds engage in their southern—or as Warrensy would have it —Rebel— strongholds. MAESTROBIRD |
The behavior was observed on Sanibel Island, offshore Fort Myers, in the spring, when male mockingbirds seek out the highest perch in their vicinity, often the pinnacle of a Norfolk Island pine. These tall, slender, introduced trees tower over everything on that island, and we had a particularly tall one on the property, owned by a talented and aggressive mockingbird. From its topmost branch he sent forth his warning piling intimidating message upon intimidating message. Not intimidating to you and me. We hear a mockingbird and relish the pleasurable sounds of spring in Florida, missing the point entirely because, like other bird songs, it is delivered as dog whistle. Male mockingbirds hear it and they don’t miss the point. They understand the threat emanating from the pine: “This area and everything in it is mine, especially my woman. Enter at your peril!”
When, which was most all the time, he was in a frame of mind to warn off any potential rivals within earshot, he used his tree as a bully pulpit. For some reason he didn’t fly the 100 feet to the top but instead hopped and fluttered from branch to higher branch, spiraling ‘round and ‘round until he reached the summit, no doubt muttering to himself all the way up, rehearsing the arias he was going to vocalize to warn off his rivals. Arrived at the highest perch, and not one branch lower, he would issue his challenge.
Here’s the thing, He was not so much mimicking other bird’s songs—although a person might pick out a copycat melody now and then. Rather, it seemed to me, he composed and tested his own stuff, originals, either drawing them up from memory, or inventing and delivering them on the spot as he went along.. In this sense, Maestrobird might be a better name for the species. His recitals were interminable tours de force, melodious filibusters consisting of endless different phrases strung one after another, some practiced, some experimental, with sometimes a slight hesitation before using a new phrase, like reviewing the notes and asking himself, “Should I use this one or not? Is it up to my standards? Will it put them in their place? Yeah, go for i!”
Even the tallest of tall Norfolk pines wasn’t sufficiently high enough to make certain his message was getting across. Once he worked himself up to a certain fevered pitch, he orbited himself skyward, bursting into the air eight or ten feet higher, his white wing bars flashing like semaphores. Reaching perihelion, he floated back down to the tree, burbling out new tunes the whole while. Lynn’s take on mockingbirds and the satisfying variety of their songs: “If you’ve got a mockingbird, you don’t need any others.“
When, which was most all the time, he was in a frame of mind to warn off any potential rivals within earshot, he used his tree as a bully pulpit. For some reason he didn’t fly the 100 feet to the top but instead hopped and fluttered from branch to higher branch, spiraling ‘round and ‘round until he reached the summit, no doubt muttering to himself all the way up, rehearsing the arias he was going to vocalize to warn off his rivals. Arrived at the highest perch, and not one branch lower, he would issue his challenge.
Here’s the thing, He was not so much mimicking other bird’s songs—although a person might pick out a copycat melody now and then. Rather, it seemed to me, he composed and tested his own stuff, originals, either drawing them up from memory, or inventing and delivering them on the spot as he went along.. In this sense, Maestrobird might be a better name for the species. His recitals were interminable tours de force, melodious filibusters consisting of endless different phrases strung one after another, some practiced, some experimental, with sometimes a slight hesitation before using a new phrase, like reviewing the notes and asking himself, “Should I use this one or not? Is it up to my standards? Will it put them in their place? Yeah, go for i!”
Even the tallest of tall Norfolk pines wasn’t sufficiently high enough to make certain his message was getting across. Once he worked himself up to a certain fevered pitch, he orbited himself skyward, bursting into the air eight or ten feet higher, his white wing bars flashing like semaphores. Reaching perihelion, he floated back down to the tree, burbling out new tunes the whole while. Lynn’s take on mockingbirds and the satisfying variety of their songs: “If you’ve got a mockingbird, you don’t need any others.“
R T WALLEN
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