They showed up singing their hearts out about six weeks ago. He, with his red cap and chest, was flashier than she was in her understated brown and white stripes. Were they purple finches or house finches? We couldn’t say for sure.
Audubon’s range guide suggests either is possible and the writeup said even seasoned birders sometimes struggle to tell them apart. For days, we’d spot the pair perched on the arbor, unfussed by our attention.
One day, the male arrived at his usual spot, with a piece of straw, no doubt pilfered from our garden mulch. They were building a nest somewhere nearby, we thought. Sweet.
We didn’t know where until my husband walked out onto the back deck one afternoon and startled one of the birds in mid-construction. When he looked up, he saw the nest perched atop a post under the awning. It was about six inches wide, perfectly round and looked complete.
Shortly after, the female took up residence in the nest where she sat patiently, her head with watchful eyes sticking up above the rim. Our morning ritual evolved to include checking on the nest while the coffee was brewing. When we drew the blinds at night, we said goodnight. We felt invested in the hatch, even though we knew full well not all breeding attempts succeed.
Songbirds are having a tough go of it; about half the world’s bird population is declining. In Canada, habitat loss and pesticides are taking a toll in the countryside, and in cities, collisions with building windows and predatory house cats are the biggest enemy. Add climate change into the mix — which is predicted to adversely affect two-thirds of all birds in North America — and the deck seems seriously stacked against them.
Humans have been fascinated by birds since prehistoric times. The earliest known image of a bird was discovered painted on the wall of the Lascaux cave in France. And there is every indication the interest has held, not just because we generally enjoy watching animals and nature, but in particular marvel at birds gifted with wings and flight.
Interest in birds and bird watching, or birding as aficionados call it, had a renaissance during the pandemic as a safe, outdoor activity that anyone with good eyesight and patience can enjoy. Birding is one of the fastest-growing hobbies in the United States and is a popular pastime in Canada as well — in 2023 one in 10 Canadian households reported being bird watchers or photographers. During the spring migration, Point Pelee National Park has an annual bird festival and BC has the Greater Vancouver Bird Celebration. And every Christmas, Canadians brave the weather for the Audubon Christmas Bird Count. Victoria, with its mild winters, often tops the chart for participation and number of species recorded and has taken to calling itself the country’s “birding capital.”
During the first year of the pandemic, I started feeding a rather large crow who would perch on the back porch railing with an expectant air. I’d read a story about a little girl in Seattle who regularly fed crows that brought her trinkets in return and I wanted to see if my crow might someday bear a gift. I’ve tossed a lot of dog kibble out the back door since then — my big friend and his extended family still show up most days — but the relationship has been decidedly one-sided.
All I have received for my troubles is the occasional mess and guilt over a cold-blooded murder. During the first summer of the pandemic, my so-called crow friends attacked a hummingbird nest in a rhododendron in our front yard and pecked two chicks to death. I had a niggling suspicion the crows twigged to their existence because they saw us obsessively watching the babies. And still I fed the big crow and his crew, because it’s hard to resist demands from a bird that follows you home on your dog walk and sits on the railing waiting for a handout.
Now, with the finch nest right above the back railing, I feared more trouble coming. I probably don’t have to tell you what happened next.
The finch chicks hatched and thrived. One morning, after a feeding, the largest of the three stood on the side of the nest, flapping fully formed wings. I called my husband over. “It’s going to launch!” We watched as the little finch took flight, instinctively darting into the protection of a large evergreen nearby. The big crow gave chase, disappeared into the branches for a bit, but came out empty-handed. Later that day, we returned home to find the perfect nest with its soft moss lining, pulverized on the back deck. The remaining two babies were nowhere in sight.
“Murderers,” my husband muttered. We’d chosen sides, favouring our tiny finch underdogs over their aggressive opponents. The next day the big crow came to its usual spot, acting as though nothing untoward had happened. And in a way, it hadn’t. My big crow was really only guilty of being a crow.
I cracked and threw him some kibble, hoping that somewhere out in the big world, one fledgling finch was still singing.
Comments
Feeding wildlife is seldom a good idea.
Birds are wildlife.
Bird feeders are good for the bird seed industry, but bad news for birds.
Few if any bird conservation organizations advocate bird-feeding.
Despite good intentions, human interference with nature does far more harm than good -- to individuals, species, and ecosystems.
Making wildlife accustomed to and dependent on handouts from people is harmful.
When wildlife associate humans with food, the story never ends well. They need to forage on their own.
It is important for young birds to learn how to find naturally occurring foods.
Uneaten seed can become soggy and grow deadly mold. A dirty feeder can become clogged, and wet or spoiled seed can transmit diseases to backyard birds, which then spread to the flock.
"Bird-feeders can present a whole host of risks, including the spread of viruses and parasites, a greater chance of window strikes, and increased vulnerability to cats and raptors."
Increased deaths from window strikes (when birds fly away from a feeder and into a nearby window).
When the autumn weather turns, and food grows scarce, that's the signal for migratory species to leave. If you feed them, they may stay on too long, and face weather they can't handle.
Millions of people feed birds. Obviously, mass feeding of birds has impacts — species and ecosystem effects.
Thanks to human intervention, "survival of the fittest" becomes "survival of those who have access to birdfeeders". Individuals who might otherwise perish now survive long enough to reproduce and pass on their (inferior) genes. Bird-feeding overrides that sorting mechanism. Human interventions may benefit individuals — at the expense of the population/species as a whole.
Likewise, feeding certain species of birds (more than/and not others) may advantage those species at the expense of competitor/prey/predator species.
And finally, as Ms. Tanner recounts, feeding birds may attract predators.
Nature knows best.
I wonder if he'd been fed "real" food, instead of extraordinarily processed animal waste, he might have been less aggressive.
It's not an idea too far fetched: humans fed a diet high in processed food, various hormones and hormone mimickers among other nasties, exhibit behaviour issues as well as health issues, perhaps not unrelated one to the other.
I also doubt that house cats are a major cause of bird population decline. We had many more birds 40 or even 20 years ago ... and many more house-and-yard cats as well.
Now it's hard to sight a single cat, and the number of birds continues to decline.
There have also been no crows in my area for now the second year in a row ... and while I don't miss them particularly, no starlings either.
Re: Crows
A horned owl had appropriated an old hawk nest in our woodlot and you could not miss her (I presume her) sitting on the nest all day surely meant she was incubating eggs. She had only been there a few days when a mob of crows showed up dive bombing the nest, practically flying into her. Someone told my son to walk out underneath the nest and point a rifle up in the air.
It only took a couple of minutes before the crows fled sqwaking alarm cries.
The owl crouched down in the nest, cautiously straightened up looked around and settled again. About 45 minutes later, A crow flew overhead scouting the nest, looking for weapons no doubt. It flew away and in the distance we heard the crows gathering their mob again and back they came repeating their attacks. Back went my son armed with a bigger shotgun this time, and with angry cries the Crows departed. This time it was almost an hour before they returned and this time my son fired off a birdshot shell far enough away from the nest but close enough to shred leaves in a neighboring tree. That ended the assault for that day. The owl was still on the nest next morning and the crows nowhere to be seen. Some of our neighbors sneaked through the woodlot to catch a glimpse of the owl - awed by its size.
Peace reigned for several days. Then about week later the crows came back. The owl was quite agitated this time moving around on the nest and we wondered if the eggs were hatching. There was talk of building a scarecrow, oversized. holding a menacing blunderbuss . Before we could put this scheme to work, the crows came back again with a bigger mob, knocking the owl off the nest and chasing it into a dense stand of fir trees. We did not stick around to watch the egg or hatchling slaughter. The owl never came back and crows dispersed. It was wonderful to have the owl in situ for such a brief time. I hope she was more successful with a nest in the fir trees.