The spring bird chorus is deservedly famous, but the birds don’t exactly go silent in the autumn.
Although recent mornings have started out with a definite chill over the past couple of weeks since the calendar officially turned the page into fall, the birds have simply fluffed their feathers and continued with business as usual.
The birds have been active despite these morning chills that I have been somewhat reluctant to acknowledge. Carolina wrens scold from tangles of vines and weeds. As of Oct. 5, I am still hearing the soft whirr of hummingbird wings, too, although I know that the curtain’s closing on their yearly stay. Other vocalizations I’ve detected early in the day have included the rattle of a belted kingfisher at the fish pond, the quarrelsome mews of a gray catbird plucking pokeberries one at a time from an overladen plant and a vigorous Eastern Phoebe repeating its “fee-bee” name continuously from the edge of the woods.
Some other birds also make their presence known while remaining concealed from direct visual observation, including a great horned owl that regularly produces resonant, distant hoots from a nearby ridge. From the ridge behind my home, the croaks of common ravens have added a bit of a spooky vibe to fog-shrouded mornings.
Ravens are extremely vocal birds. In addition to the harsh croaks usually associated with these birds, raven can also produce an uncanny imitation of a tinkling bell.
I’m not pulling any legs. Among their vocal repertoire, ravens can produce, usually in flight, a “bell” call. I’m not sure if this is a common vocalization. I only remember ever hearing a raven’s “bell” on a few occasions. I was with a group of more established birders at Roan Mountain State Park when a raven flew overhead. Someone called out, “Listen to that.” I listened and heard my first raven “bell” call.
The strange thing is that I can find little about this unusual vocalization when I researched the subject. According to the website All About Birds, common ravens calls vary from a low, gurgling croak to harsh grating sounds and shrill alarm calls. Scientists have placed their vocalizations into as many as 33 different categories based on sound and context. The most commonly heard is the classic gurgling croak, rising in pitch and seeming to come from the back of the throat.
The croak is their standby vocalization, which they produce often. The raven’s croak can be heard from a mile away. And, in defense of the poet Edgar Allan Poe and his “ominous bird of yore,” ravens are accomplished mimics. According to All About Birds, ravens can imitate other birds. Raven raised in captivity can even learn words. “Nevermore?”
This is the time of year when departures appear to outpace new arrivals, but there are some birds that will soon make their return after a lengthy absence, including white-throated sparrows, dark-eyed juncos and winter wrens. The local ravens, on the other hand, appear to have chosen to reside near my home year-round.
From the opening refrain of “once upon a midnight dreary” in his poem, “The Raven,” Edgar Allan Poe established a somber mood and also helped cement the dark reputation of one of North America’s most misunderstood birds. Poe describes the bird that provides the title of his famous poem with adjectives such as “grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous.” His raven also speaks, although it has the limited vocabulary of a single word, “Nevermore.”
How else does the real common raven resemble the “bird of yore” in Poe’s classic poem? For starters, the raven is an intelligent bird. Authors of a scientific study conducted about 15 years ago posited the claim that ravens and crows are just as intelligent as some of the great apes. Although parrots are more famous for the ability to mimic human speech, captive ravens have proven capable of learning more words than even the most impressive vocabulary-endowed parrots. So, Poe was not wide of the mark when he gave the gift of gab to the raven in his poem.
The sounds of autumn are definitely richer for having the croaking calls of ravens in the mix. Keep your eyes (and ears) open for new arrivals as the transition of seasons continues.
•••
To share a sighting, ask a question or make a comment, email me at ahoodedwarbler@aol.com.