“And I've been thinking: if the human race manages to destroy itself, as it often seems to want to do, or if some great disaster comes, as it did for the dinosaurs, then the birds will still manage to survive. When our gardens and fields and farms and woods have turned wild, when the park at the end of Falconer Road has turned into a wilderness, when our cities are in ruins, the birds will go on flying and singing and making their nests and laying their eggs and raising their young. It could be that the birds will exist for ever and for ever until the earth itself comes to an end, no matter what might happen to the other creatures. They'll sing until the end of time."
― David Almond
The earliest fossils of Song Sparrows were discovered in deposits on San Miguel Island, dating back 25,000 to 39,000 years. Of course, they run back in further in time ― these are merely the oldest fossils we've found. Since there are presently as many as 24 recognized subspecies of Song Sparrow that vary in vocalization, it's impossible to know what Paleolithic ones sounded like. But it is fun to consider these dapper little sparrows singing throughout North America for ages in the company of only wild things and no humans.
Like all others that are alive, this particular Song Sparrow represents an unbroken chain of reproductive success ― not a single one of his ancestors perished without producing progeny, going back tens of thousands of years, and indeed millions. Of course, that's true for all living things, and many living things die before they have a chance to procreate. But what were they way back then? At some point in the unbroken chain of descent with modification, they were not anything we would recognize as a Song Sparrow. Perhaps such sentiments of natural history can make their ordinariness seem extraordinary. Song Sparrows are an evolutionary success story.
Perhaps I am observing a member of a species that will ultimately out-live humans.
Eastern Meadowlarks have their own historical story as well, but it isn't a happy one. Human activities have reduced their population by almost 80% in just the last 45 years. This spring's meadowlarks have returned to various prairies I frequent, including Barneveld Prairie and Shoveler's Sink. There weren't any to be heard or seen at Pope Farm Conservancy, but I did not check Pheasant Branch. I did drive along Pheasant Branch Road on my way home yesterday, and cars filled both parking lots as well as both sides of the road for several hundred feet. Over the years it's become one of the most popular places for people to go outdoors. I knew it would be like this. Yesterday was unusual because the temperature soared into the mid-sixties, so I'm glad I decided to go elsewhere.
Meadowlark ― Mary Oliver
Has anyone seen meadowlark?
I’ve been looking for probably
forty years now
unsuccessfully.
He used to live in the field
I crossed many a morning
heading to the woods,
truant again from school.
There were no meadowlarks in the school.
Which was a good enough reason for me
not to want to be there.
But now it’s more serious.
There is no field, neither have the woods survived.
So, where is meadowlark?
If anyone has seen him, please would you let me know
posthaste?
You may have noticed a substantial influx of Red-winged Blackbirds over the course of the past week, but even they're threatened with population declines; 35% according to Cornell Lab of Ornithology. In another study conducted in Ontario, they found a 50% regional decline in just 25 years. Why? Habitat loss is a factor, but they're often regarded as agricultural pests, and so there are legal means of reducing their numbers: Shooting, trapping, poisoning by pesticides and avicides, spraying with surfactants (wetting feathers, then death by hypothermia), even dynamiting!
But perhaps, they too, will have the last Konk-la-reee!
Though the snow here is pretty well gone, here are some recent photographs I took at Gibraltar State Natural Area ― a great place to hike and admire lovely scenery. I've only birded it during the fall or winter so far, but I'll bet it has some great neotropicals moving through during May, and it really isn't too far of a drive. If the creek corridor gets too muggly this spring, perhaps this will be an alternate weekend warbler destination.
All images © 2021 Mike McDowell