Common Birds 32 - Red-winged Blackbird II

Thursday, May 25

For a long time, red-winged blackbirds never grabbed me. They were merely the ever present sound of being near a pond, or river, or marsh. Now, I know better. Now, I know that red-winged blackbirds are knights, vanquishers of mighty foes and defenders of the weak. I should have known, their red and orange shoulders like brilliant pauldrons.

Today, there was a battle in one of the parking lot’s trees. I heard it before I made it out. A crow was climbing through the branches. Three male orioles were darting like flaming arrows at the crow’s pitch black flanks. It is one thing to know that a crow is bigger than an oriole, it is another thing to see them side by side. The crow was about three times the size of the defenders, it’s thick, blunt bill the size of their heads. Unhindered, it worked its way through the tree. The orioles grew frantic, sharp cries coming more quickly and loudly, but the crow was unmoved. I looked for a nest, for the crow’s goal, trying to decide if I’d stay for the whole messy business. The orioles couldn’t stop the crow, this crow who brushed away their attacks like crumbs. Then suddenly the black bird dropped from the tree and winged off, three orange flares in pursuit, but it was a fourth bird who was literally nipping at the crows tail. The red-winged blackbird had arrived! In the air, the crow tried to turn off to the left and right, making for other trees, but with flashes of red and black, the nimble blackbird drove the looming crow, refusing to let it turn. The crow took refuge on a street light and the four defenders took up posts in the nearby trees. The red winged blackbird raised its piercing call, declaring that this land is safe once again.

I saw a red-winged blackbird do almost the same thing again yesterday. A double crested cormorant was on the pond. Most of the time, I see cormorants by the ocean, where they are diminished by its enormity. Seeing one on the pond is like seeing the moon on the horizon, suddenly you are struck by its sheer size: as long as a goose, but lean and ravenous. I never knew that an animal could prowl over the surface of the water, but this cormorant prowled, circling, flashing its look, hooked beak, looking for anything to devour. And the pond was silent. This was a predator unlike the herons and hooded mergansers. I heard no vireos, no orioles, no grosbeaks. No fish broke the surface. I waited for it to dive, to fish, to do anything other than hungrily search, but relentlessly, the cormorant circled. Then, the crashing of wings on water. The cormorant flapped and floundered then broke clear of the water, flying towards the outlet to the river. At its tail was the tiny form of the red-winged blackbird, charging like a knight at a dragon, undeterred by its size and palpable violence. The massive black wings cleared the bridge, vanquished. The small figure of the red-winged blackbird lit on a green branch, announcing freedom from fear with its rolling voice, a voice joined by myriad songs of rescued birds.