Race against time for the rose-breasted grosbeak

T he breeding season is beginning to wind down now, and the sound of young fledglings is slowly replacing the morning chorus of territorial male birds. This year I had a male rose-breasted grosbeak singing nonstop above my deck. He sang a rich, clear song with a far-away atmospheric quality that was quite peaceful. Today, his fledgling young landed on the deck railing and reminded me of how quickly the summer is moving.

Losing track of how quickly time is passing is not something the rose-breasted grosbeak can afford to do. It has limited time to recharge itself after migration, mate, and raise its young. The grosbeak begins its race against time while still at its wintering site. It heeds the call to gain strength and consume calories as the southern hemisphere angles away from the sun. Its migration will not be easy, and it has to move fast.

The grosbeaks that nest in my neck of the woods have an added challenge during migration — much more so than those nesting in the western part of the United States. The grosbeaks arriving here must cross the Gulf of Mexico from their wintering sites in Central America and northern South America. Grosbeaks headed for points west of the Mississippi usually migrate over Central America and up along the Texas coast, avoiding the ocean crossing.

If there is a favorable wind, their journey may involve up to 20 hours of nonstop flying. Anything longer, which can occur without a tailwind, is too long and will result in death. So, you can see how challenging the crossing is for those birds that are headed east. I ought to remember the grosbeaks’ challenging migration the next time I complain about a long airplane flight.

Grosbeaks have odd nesting habits: the males incubate the eggs and even sing while doing so, and they help raise the young. The females also break the rules: they are one of the few female songbirds breeding in North America to perform a territorial song. Ornithologists talk about other odd things that the bird does, such as the unusual intimate communication between the male and the female during the nesting phase. Evidently, there is more to these birds’ vocals than we are capable of experiencing during our normal daily lives. The literature is filled with accounts of closedbill singing between males and females. It is a song so soft that it can be heard only by using listening devices at close range, but it is said to be beautiful beyond description.

Elusive and shy by nature, rose-breasted grosbeaks spend most of their time high in the canopy of the woods. It is only during the first few weeks of May and within the first days after their arrival that they share their beauty and allow themselves to be seen with any regularity. I had several of them regularly feeding at my fly-through feeder. They enjoyed the black oil sunflower seeds mixed with fruit and the small offerings of grape jelly.

Now, I rarely see them or hear them. Perhaps that is why the chance sighting of those young rose-breasted grosbeaks on the deck was so special. Although a reminder of the passing season, the sight of those young birds gave proof the male that sang all spring fulfilled his mission. The cry of fledglings calling out for food instead of adult birds singing is nothing more than the bright promise of the future.