The Northern Cardinal

The Northern Cardinal  (Cardinalis cardinalis)  has been singing for a number of weeks at this location during the months of March and April.  Various bird guides describe the Cardinal’s  whistle differently but I think the easiest description to remember is the following:   “What cheer, what cheer, sweet, sweet, sweet”  He has quite a vocal range and a number of other calls including the “whoit, whoit, whoit, whoit”  but in spring he serenades his lady and all his human admirers with his “What cheer...” song.

He is a brilliant red in colour with a conical red bill and a contrasting black face and chin but his most impressive feature is his pronounced crest. The female cardinal is similar in appearance in all but colour.  While her wings, crest, tail and bill are red slightly more subdued in hue, the rest of her is a brownish-olive colour.  The males of all species of birds are generally dapper in their attire while the ladies’ frocks tend to be dower in colour, (Nature’s method of camouflage for nesting).

 

The preferred habitat of the cardinal is among hedgerows, streamside thickets, forest edges, & swamps.  Occasionally, cardinals will take up residence in suburban areas.

His singing is a delight to hear when there are patches of snow remaining in the woods. Cardinals are the fire birds of the Northern woods.  Their range has expanded northward in recent years, possibly due to global warming but also loss of habitat in their southern range.

They make their nests close to the ground and thus their eggs are easily plundered.  Both male and female are devoted parents.  They have a clutch of 4 eggs and often two broods in a season.  The Male cardinal takes over feeding of the fledglings while his mate is incubating the second clutch.  

 

The small plot of land which surrounds this abode is sacred to the occupants simply because it has become a habitat to such a variety of avian neighbours, the cardinal included.  My cousin remembers watching the cardinals when visiting some years ago.  That is the impression they leave on our psyches.   Generally it is thought that

 

Stravinsky had the mythical Phoenix in mind when he penned his composition  “The Firebird”  but I always think of the Cardinal as being “The Firebird”.   I send out my best wishes to the Cardinal and thank him for his lovely singing whenever he is near.

 

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With the clearing of great tracts of land in this farming community, small pockets of wild space need to be protected more than ever.  The birds are depending on us to leave a little habitat aside for them.

The untamed patch calls out to the birds.

Once upon a time, farmers kept hedgerows and woodlots.  They rarely cut an oak tree.  The hedgerow protected crops from high winds and helped to contain blights carried on the wind.   They helped to prevent erosion of the delicate top soil  and  the farm animals found shade and shelter near the hedgerow.  The wild creatures, especially the birds made their homes in hedgerows.     Modern farming practices don’t value the wisdom that has been inured through the ages and modern science has confirmed.  Common sense seems to have been abandoned?   “Gleaning”   seems  to be  the operative word in this age of industrial farming.   Why have the old farming  practices derived from the wisdom of the ages,  inherited down through generation upon generation of farming families, been abandoned?

We have to wonder how many ancient lands, once fertile agrarian communities, became desserts?  Time and again, archeologists uncover ancient civilizations lost to the sands of the dessert. 

The delicate balance which makes soil arable is fast diminishing.  Deeper plowing, chemical applications and removal of hedgerows and stream bank brush is hastening the destruction of the good Earth. 

We can help by buying organic produce if we can afford it but also we can reserve a little space in our backyards designated  “This place is for the Birds”.    Where birds thrive, the land is healthy.

 I digress.  This blog is about birds which desperately need at least one twig every few thousand yards on which to land.  The poor birds become exhausted trying to make it from one perch to the next.  

 The small plot surrounding this country abode serves an oasis, a sanctuary where birds can find respite and nesting sites and quietude.

I feel that I have taken on a sacred trust and it has now become my obligation to maintain this sanctuary for the birds. 

This Place is For the Birds.  

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DW English Saturday, May 9, 2015