For the Birds

            No, I don’t spend all my time indoors reading and carping.  Sometimes I turn my curmudgeonry toward the natural world, especially out here on Martha’s Vineyard.  Last year, for example, I squirrel-proofed my bird feeders by stringing them (the feeders, not the squirrels) from thin wires between the house and a tree – six or more feet high. With no tightrope wide enough for their skills, the gray robbers are content to pick up what the birds drop, like the family dog lying under the chair of the sloppiest eater among the children.

            Victory – but short-lived.  After a week or so, the colorful array of finches, cardinals, bluejays, redwing blackbirds, chickadees and others were almost entirely driven off by a large and growing mob of grackles. 

Note to the pedantic: there is no term of venery for grackles as there is for owls (parliament), quail (bevy), starlings (murmuration), or, most hyperbolic, wrens (herd? Who thought that up?).  One blogger has suggested flash mob, which does capture their abruptness, but is much too pleasant.  I think they should be put in the lineup with their bigger cousins: a murder of crows and a mugging of grackles sounds about right to me.  Subnote: the British use “grackles” to refer to mobs of tourists – one of the best Britishisms since “bumph,” which means both toilet paper and any tedious pile of paper that requires your reluctant attention.

            But back to quiscalus quiscula. (The dictionary makers list this odd name as “of uncertain origin,” and suggest a possibility that it comes from the Spanish quisquilla, worthless fellow.  Sounds apt to me – maybe it all goes back to the Latin “who” as in “Who the hell are these birds anyway?”)  I called my good birding friend Peter Tacy in Connecticut, who advised me on these Mafiosi -- the black and purple combo suggests a similar fashion sense, doesn’t it?  Peter explained that grackles shift from insects to seeds after mating, that they do indeed take over feeders, and that they can not only chase off smaller birds, but also add them to their diets.  His suggested cure was to put out unattractive food, such as nyger thistle seeds, which worked well, except that almost no one else liked the seeds either and they got wet and clogged up the feeder.

            Fast forward to this June, when I opened up my wallet for a specifically designed nyger feeder (the little birds seem much happier with this one, especially a mated pair of finches who often dine together), and a large-bird-proof feeder that shuts down when anyone heavier than a cardinal tries to eat by perching on its ring.

            At last we have a winner, and a source of great entertainment.  The jays stop by occasionally, but give up almost instantly.  Everyone else dines successfully.  But best of all is watching a grackle spend several minutes trying to beat the system. 

            First he lands and tries a feeder hole, but it’s closed.  He studies it, then moves to the next hole. (There are six.) Still no joy.  He glances up again at the tube, where he sees plenty of seed.  So he looks into a hole, which of course is not a hole as long as he is perched.  Around the perching ring again a few times.  Now he stretches high up to stare right into the cylinder.  Looks like seed from here too, he must think.  Around the ring again, checking holes, up to look at the seed.  Then (for he doesn’t worry about predators as do almost all the other birds), he looks around for the culprit.  Am I being punked?  Where’s Ashton Kutcher?  Around again, check the holes, check the tube.  Then straight up as if imploring the Great Grackle in the Sky for help.  For a good five minutes I watch him, as smaller birds perch on the wire, balancing caution and hope.  Finally he gives up.  I turn my head to watch him fly, and when I snap back to the feeder, the house finches are already dining. 

            Ah, sweet triumph!  Anyone know a parallel strategy for the mob feeders at Morgan Stanley, Barclays, etc., etc.?