Lady Hernshead With Bug Plus Exclusive Narrative

tags: red-winged blackbird, Agelaius phoeniceus, birds, NYC, Central Park, Image of the Day

My good friend, the published author Bob Levy, has sent me eight images that document the lives of a little family of red-winged blackbirds living in Central Park, NYC. These images will appear as the Image of the Day beginning on the 6th of January and running through the 13th of January.

Part two of the story about this family of birds can be read below the fold (part one was published yesterday);

Part two, continued from yesterday ...

From my excellent vantage point a few feet away I had a partial but reasonable view into the Red-winged Blackbird nest at Hernshead. I had determined there were at least three nestlings inside. Disappointingly only one would eventually survive to fledge. Did the grackles raid the nest? Without direct observations, my own or that of others, there is no way to know what happened to the siblings. Happily the surviving nestling and its parents would impart an exceptional lesson in bird behavior to me.

Not being able to determine its sex I dubbed the nestling with the androgynous moniker of "Little Hernshead." One afternoon I discovered it had fledged. Judging by its physical condition I suspected that it had come out of the nest within a day or two and possibly within hours of my arrival.

The novice fledgling was perched in the center of a small patch of plants growing in the shallow water within a yard of the nest shrub. Its mother stood directly opposite in an adjacent clump of stalks. The two faced each other. Lady Hernshead began calling. Her vocalizations were soft and difficult to hear but I thought they sounded like "eep, eep, eep." This was unfamiliar to me and the behavior that followed was even more so. A short series of "chuck" calls began to follow each bout of "eep" calls. I am familiar with "chuck" calls but these were notably different from others I remembered. The "tone" seemed most unusual. For lack of a better term both phrases were whispered.

On closer scrutiny I noticed that Lady Hernshead vocalized while holding an insect in her beak. The bug was sufficiently large so that I could see multiple appendages poking out of both sides of her bill and there was the hint of a chunky dark mass in the center. I could not tell what kind of prey it was and though I tried hard, I failed to get a reasonable picture of it. I would come to regret my photographic failure when the significance of the scenario dawned on me.

I assumed Lady Hernshead was going to feed her catch to the fledgling but she did not. Instead she maintained her position while repeating the same series of soft and gentle calls. Standing statue-like, Little Hernshead stirred from his or her hiding place after about two minutes. The fledgling laboriously climbed to the perimeter of the stalks and paused in front of a stretch of water about an inch deep and six inches wide along the shore as Lady Hernshead continued calling while clutching the bug in her beak.

Meanwhile Lord Hernshead had descended from his favored lookout post to perch about eight feet above the others. He began repeating his mate's calls. Lord Hernshead by then was a mere yard over my head but seemingly oblivious to my presence as were his family members. I was as transfixed by all three birds as Little Hernshead was by the bug. I had a feeling what would follow would be even more compelling. It was.

Remaining motionless Little Hernshead faced Lady Hernshead and the enticing meal in her beak. After a minute or so the fledgling was on the move. The golf ball-sized critter leaned forward, paused and then leapt toward his or her mother but failed to reach the other side. Instead the fledgling splashed into the water a few inches short of the goal. I instinctively lurched to rescue Little Hernshead but stopped as a half-forgotten detail rushed into my mind. I suddenly recollected that this species has a special skill for this situation. Unlike adults fledgling Red-winged Blackbirds are able to swim short distances. It is an expedient adaptation for birds that frequently nest above water and it proved to be a lifesaver in this case.

With wings madly pumping, Little Hernshead arduously reached the place where Lady Hernshead had stood but she was no longer there. As Little Hernshead had heaved toward her, Lady Hernshead had slipped a foot farther away. She then stood on solid ground close to the base of the bush that held her nest. Little Hernshead paused for a while seemingly to catch his or her breath and, I imagined, to figure out what the heck to do next. Mother and child starred at one another as both parents repeated the same calls. A minute more passed before Little Hernshead was moving again. The fledgling wiggled out from the stalks to step onto dry land but once more, Lady Hernshead had retreated. Little Hernshead paused then pressed on toward her. It was much easier going on land but each time the fledgling advanced Lady Hernshead moved farther away. The process was repeated a few more times as Lady Hernshead lead her fledgling from the ground up into the branches at the base of the nest bush.

The reason for these behaviors by now was obvious: Lady Hernshead was using the bug in her beak as a lure to entice her fledgling to follow her. A specific series of calls, echoed by Lord Hernshead, were a part of the process. That much was transparent but I would have to wait to see where and why Lady Hernshead was leading her child.

As she moved deeper and higher into the bush, her fledgling followed. The two moved successively from branch to branch until Little Hernshead was where the leaves nearly covered him or her from sight. This location, coincidentally or not, was at the same height and about a foot away from the nest. I believe Lady Hernshead signaled that she was satisfied that Little Hernshead had reached the desired spot when she unceremoniously stuffed the insect deep inside the youngster's mouth.

I waited to see if there would be more interactions but that was the end of the episode. As the light began to fade it became apparent that Little Hernshead's destination was to be his or her roost for the night. Having accomplished her mission Lady Hernshead set about preening. So did Lord Hernshead. Little Hernshead, nearly hidden from view, sat motionless. I did some mental preening as I mulled over what I had seen.

The complex series of actions and communications between these adult birds and their fledgling had impressed me nearly as much as my first encounter with George that I detailed in Club George. The way in which Lady Hernshead had used food to coax her fledgling to follow her and the vocalizations of both parents were behaviors of unanticipated sophistication. At least they were to this bird-watcher.

The potential for more observations like these make me look forward to my next encounter with Red-winged Blackbirds but in the Northeast region that means I will have to wait until February or March when they return. Both a beginning and an expert bird-watcher can learn a lot about bird behavior by closely watching and listening to these birds. Of course the sheer entertainment value of watching them is worth the price of admission, so to speak. They put on a good show.

The species is common over a large portion of North America. If they come to your area to breed I suggest you seek them out but I cannot in good conscience advise you to get as physically close as I did lest you find yourself the target of an aerial and sonic attack. I know from experience that your local Red-winged Blackbirds are not likely to be as tame as the Central Park variety. Need I say, "Trust me" on this point? I hope not. Take heed but go out and enjoy their antics.

By Bob Levy, author of Club George.