SINGING A DIFFERENT TUNE

A male Varied Thrush. Hear his unusual song below.

You know springtime is upon us when Varied Thrushes and Dark-eyed Juncos insist on waking you up at the crack of dawn with their incessant singing! Indeed, in the past few weeks, all manner of avian-related noise in my backyard has increased two- or threefold. Most of my feeder-frequenters have "changed their tunes," so to speak, from typical calls to territorial songs, making my neighborhood a much more melodious place.

Now, in case you were unaware, in the world of ornithology bird noises are classified into three groups: calls, songs, and mechanical sounds. A proper discussion of mechanical sounds would require an entire blog entry all on its own, so we'll hold off on that until a later date. For now, I hope you can be content with simply knowing that a mechanical sound is any non-vocal sound produced by a bird (such as bill clacking in ravens, drumming in woodpeckers, and the recently famous tail-squeak of Anna's Hummingbirds). For those of our dear readers with an insatiable and demmanding appetite for more knowledge, I shall leave you in the capable hands of your Google search bar (search for Chris Clark's research on tail sounds in Anna's Hummingbirds).

For the rest of us who haven't been sidetracked by mechanical sounds, I'll go ahead and get back to the calls and songs. What's the difference between these two types of vocalizations? In some species, the differences can be quite difficult to make out, but for others - most songbirds for example - they are as different as night and day - or perhaps, summer and winter? In general, most songs tend to be more elaborate, longer, and change with the seasons, while calls tend to be short and simple. As with most broad generalizations, there often appear to be more exceptions to the rule than conformists. Let's stick to the conformists for now.

A Dark-eyed Junco sings from his perch. Listen below.

Warblers, wrens, kinglets, and most sparrows tend to conform very nicely to these generalizations regarding songs and calls. Take the vocalizations of the Pacific Wren for example. Their calls are very short, simple and repeated, while their songs are quite complex and can continue for up to 120 seconds (one of the longest wren songs ever recorded).

So what's the purpose of all this singing? The answer, as it often does in the natural world, brings us back to reproduction. Bird vocalizations are better defined as songs when we learn why they are produced. Singing behavior is a product of changes in hormone concentrations due to the lengthening of days. As days get longer in the spring, and the breeding season draws ever closer, the production of sex-related hormones (such as testosterone) spikes, and male songbirds begin singing their heads off every morning on your windowsill.

Calls, on the other hand, are not generally regulated by hormones. Instead they are communication- and coordination-related. Warning calls, contact calls, flight calls, foraging calls, distress calls, alarm calls - all of these sounds are produced for the coordination of behaviors. An alarm call will alert other birds in a flock to a predator. Flight, contact, and foraging calls help birds keep track of one another while moving in flocks (Bushtits for example). Distress calls can coordinate mobbing behavior, deterring predators. In fact, Black-capped Chickadees have been known to mimic the distress calls of other species, inciting more birds to join an anti-predator mob.

Pacific Wrens use songs to defend territories year-round.
Pacific Wren song:

Pacific Wren alarm calls:

The diversity and repertoires of bird songs and calls is utterly astounding. Every year I hear chickadees, Steller's Jays, Bewick's Wrens and juncos make sounds I have never heard them produce before. I often feel like keeping up with new birdsongs is like trying to keep track of top-40 pop music! For a nice example of how songs can vary within a species, check out the "typical" Ruby-crowned Kinglet songs below.

Learning bird songs is a rewarding and enlightening experience. I have provided a few common songs and calls here to get you started. If you would like to continue your listening lessons, try looking up common bird songs on Xeno-Canto or in the Macaulay Library of Animal Sounds.

Also, it is interesting to note that exactly one year ago today, Dennis Paulson wrote a similarly themed blog entry about the arrival of spring and birds singing and breeding! Funny how the timing of this worked out! Check out last year's blog entry here.


- Robert Niese
Education and Outreach Coordinator

Bushtits use a variety of contact calls to keep track of one
another while foraging in large flocks. Listen to these calls below.

Song Sparrow songs are also quite common in my neck of
the woods. But don't get me started on song-variation in
sparrows. That's a topic for another day. Or week, perhaps.
Here's a typical song for Pacific Northwest Song Sparrows:

And here's a very nice recording of their alarm calls:

In my opinion, Ruby-crowned Kinglets sing one of the oddest
songs in Washington! Each song consists of three parts
 and each of those parts varies greatly between individuals.
Here is a "typical" song for a "Northwestern" Ruby-
crowned Kinglet. Note the three parts. The high-pitched
section, the descending twitter, and the see-sawing warble:

Now listen to how this individual from the Rockies changes his
song. It's different but we can still pick-out the three main parts:

Some birds will rearrange parts of their song, like this one from Quebec:

And then there are oddballs, like this population in British Colombia:

American Robins have remarkably diverse vocalizations.
Here is a typical Robin song:

This is an alarm call:

And here is another call type:
 

THE BIRDS THINK IT’S SPRING

This is the time of year when our resident birds begin to sing. Already I have heard Anna’s Hummingbird, Bewick’s Wren, American Robin, Varied Thrush, European Starling, House Finch, Song Sparrow, and Dark-eyed Junco singing around my house. On the other hand, the vast majority of migrant species have not arrived yet, and those residents that are singing won’t be breeding until some time in April.

Why don’t all birds breed at the same time? Well, an easy explanation for raptors is that their incubation periods are long, so it behooves them to breed before many other species, so they have eggs hatching at a time when food resources are high. As it turns out, the eggs of the early breeders hatch at a time when many local mammals are weaning young.

Some species, for example raptors such as Barn and Great Horned Owls and Red-tailed Hawks, have already begun their breeding cycles. A Northwest pair of Red-tailed Hawks could have a complete clutch of three eggs laid by March 20. The first egg would hatch in mid April, and young would be ready to leave the nest by the end of May.

The bird-eating accipiter hawks (Cooper’s, Sharp-shinned) begin to breed later than the mammal eaters, because the supply of naïve young birds doesn’t really kick in until May or June. A Cooper’s Hawk pair that lays the first egg of a clutch of four on April 15 would expect the first young to hatch on May 20 and the first young to fledge about a month after that. By the end of May there are great numbers of young, naïve birds in the surrounding woodland that can provide prey for a family of Cooper’s Hawks.

A Barn Owl that laid her first of six to eight eggs on March 10 would see the first young hatch on April 10 and fledge in about two months. By hatching time, great numbers of young voles would have emerged from their grass nests to forage in their myriad runways, and the parents can find plenty of protein for their growing young. Furthermore, a just-fledged owlet should have no trouble detecting and catching those furry snacks.

Mammal-eating owls such as Barn and Great Horned breed early, but insect-eaters such as Western Screech and Burrowing Owls breed later for two reasons. First, incubation and fledging periods are shorter for smaller birds, so there is no reason to start so early. More importantly, their prey does not become active until ambient temperatures allow activity. So these owls are laying their eggs in April and even May.

A Burrowing Owl clutch of eight eggs might be completed on April 15, when incubation would ensue. The eggs would hatch around May 15, and the young would be ready to leave the burrow by the end of June, when insects and lizards abounded in its nesting territory.

So the eggs of the mammal eaters hatch about a month before the eggs of the bird and insect eaters, just as predicted. Not only the wonderful adaptations of living organisms, but also their exquisitely fine tuning, never fail to impress me.

Dennis Paulson

FLORAL EXPLOSION

Spring is a wonderful time of year for the Northwest naturalist. Everything seems to be happening at once. Migrating birds arrive every day. Butterflies add their erratic movement to the landscape. And flowers are everywhere.

The most spectacular flower shows in spring are in the open country and pinelands east of the Cascade Crest. They easily equal the floral spectacle that makes a midsummer mountain hike such a delight, although they are surely less appreciated. But they are worthy of the effort it takes for a Puget Sounder to plan a trip east. Starting as early as March in the sagebrush country, the spring flower show slowly moves uphill with the increasing temperatures of spring and reaches its peak in early May in the grasslands at the lower edge of the Cascades.

Sagebrush buttercups (Ranunculus glaberrimus) and yellow bells (Fritillaria pudica) start off the parade of colors with bright yellow spots in the gray sagebrush landscape. They’re followed by the more conspicuous show of big balsamroot (Balsamorhiza deltoidea) bouquets and wide washes of white and purple phlox (Phlox spp.). Just these flowers alone create a macro-spectacle in that part of Washington, easily viewed from the main highways.

But to see all the phytodiversity you can imagine, get off the highways. Back roads near Thorp or the Umtanum Road southwest of Ellensburg provide as good a flower show as anyone could desire. Drive slowly or walk out through the habitat. Check out open rocky areas for spectacular pink bitterroot (Lewisia rediviva) and Simpson’s hedgehog cactus (Pediocactus simpsonii) flowers and look for the beautiful color scheme of sagebrush violets (Viola trinervata).

And come back about every two weeks to see the turnover, as species after species blooms. You can only hope that there are enough pollinating insects out there to see to the needs of all these sex-starved flowers.

Dennis Paulson

FROGS ARE JUMPING!

Spring in the Pacific Northwest was made for amphibians. They flourish in cooler temperatures than reptiles, and they do best where it’s wet, so the cool, wet springs of this region are great for them. And because amphibians need moisture and are small and have many predators, most of them are active at night, so that’s the time to be out looking for them. Most amphibian hunters use a headlamp to keep their hands free, as amphibians are elusive little critters.

There is a moderate diversity of frogs in this area, some of them common. The most ubiquitous is the Pacific Chorus Frog (Pseudacris regilla), and it seems as if they can hardly wait to start breeding. Individuals are heard calling during warmer winter days, and the choruses really start up by February. Their ribbit call is known to all because so many movies are made in Hollywood, where the species is common. The call is first heard individually and then swells into a chorus, as more and more males head for the wetlands in which they breed.

The Western Toad (Anaxyrus boreas [formerly Bufo boreas]) was also one of the most commonly seen frogs in the Northwest, but this is one of the species that has declined greatly in recent years, as part of the Great Amphibian Problem. We don’t see as many of them as we used to, but they are still widespread. If you can’t find an adult, you may see masses of little black tadpoles swimming together in a mountain lake or a shore lined with toadlets that have just undergone metamorphosis in late summer.

The Red-legged Frog (Rana aurora) is the common native frog that looks like a classical frog – a long-legged jumper with smooth skin. It is most common in wooded areas with abundant ponds, where you may find its big floating mass of around a thousand eggs in spring. You have to have one in the hand to see the conspicuous red colors on the underside of the legs and body. In the mountains and east of the Cascades you can find two related species, the Cascades Frog (Rana cascadae) and Columbia Spotted Frog (Rana luteiventris).

The Bullfrog (Lithobates catesbeianus [formerly Rana catesbeiana]) is one of the villains in the amphibian story. Brought from eastern North America for culinary and sporting reasons, this species seems to flourish almost anywhere it is introduced. Unfortunately, it does so at the expense of other amphibians and other aquatic creatures. A virtual eating machine, a Bullfrog will take in anything that fits in its capacious mouth, and it has been implicated in the decline of some other frogs that share its aquatic habitat.

One of the most interesting things about Northwestern frogs is their silence. Anyone coming from the East is used to frog choruses with multiple species calling, one of the real thrills of a rainy spring evening in Massachusetts or Florida or Missouri. But our frogs don’t say much. Although some toads have ear-splitting trilled calls, ours makes nothing more than chirps. Red-legged Frogs call from under water and can be heard only at very close range. In fact, our only noisy native frog is the chorus frog. Of course the introduced Bullfrog has added much to our soundscape, its loud jug-o-rum resounding from warm-water lakes all over the region.

The Tailed Frog (Ascaphus truei) is another silent species - it doesn’t even have ears. It lives in rushing streams, where almost any sound would be obscured by the sound of the water. Unlike many other frogs, the males don’t attract females by their calls, but instead go looking for them. They also can’t fertilize the eggs in the standard way by depositing sperm on them, as the current would wash the sperm away. Thus the males have evolved an extension, but it’s not a tail!

There is still much controversy about what has caused so many frog species all over the world to become rare or, in some cases, extinct. A special kind of fungus called a chytrid (Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis) is heavily involved, as infestations of this fungus can kill off all the individuals of some species in an area. Fortunately, our Northwest amphibians have not declined as thoroughly as have populations of many tropical montane species.

Dennis Paulson

IT’S SALAMANDER SEASON!

Spring has sprung, or at least it’s about to spring, and it’s the time of year when amphibian activity becomes most noticeable.

Washington supports populations of 14 species of salamanders and 11 frogs. Amphibians like wet climates, and we’ve got that. Salamanders are diverse in temperate latitudes, frogs a bit less so, but as usual, the tropics are the home of the greatest diversity (compare Costa Rica’s 43 salamanders and 133 frogs!).

Our rainy winter provides the water to allow frog and salamander breeding, and as soon as it warms up enough in spring, off they go. This happens in late February or March for a variety of species.

Northwestern Salamanders (Ambystoma gracile) live underground for much of the year but come to the surface to feed in spring and during fall rains. They are rarely seen but could be observable at night at breeding ponds, when the adults come to the water to breed. Males court females, then when both are ready, the male deposits a spermatophore which the female picks up in her cloaca. The sperms within fertilize her eggs as she lays a big clutch of around 100 eggs in a jelly envelope the size of an orange, usually wrapped around some underwater object. The larvae stay in the water for a year or more, then undergo metamorphosis to the terrestrial stage and breed in the next spring.

Meanwhile, Long-toed Salamanders (Ambystoma macrodactylum) are migrating to other ponds, often smaller ones. This species is more common and wide-ranging, occurring in drier parts of the Northwest and well up in the mountains as well as the wet western lowlands. Breeding occurs in the spring, but females lay much smaller egg masses, averaging only a dozen or so eggs. Being a smaller species, metamorphosis and maturation are quicker than in the Northwestern.

Rough-skinned Newts (Taricha granulosa) are also stirring from their winter retreats and heading for the water. Like the others, they migrate mostly on rainy evenings to their breeding lakes. Courtship is prolonged, even lasting a day or more, but usually ending with spermatophore pickup, fertilization, and egg-laying. Eggs are laid singly in aquatic vegetation. The larvae metamorphose and leave the water in fall and disperse away from the water, to which they return after 4 or 5 years. In this species, many breeding adults remain aquatic through the summer, developing smoother skin and tail crests that aid in swimming.

By contrast, two of the common salamanders of the Northwest are terrestrial, with no aquatic stage. They are lungless salamanders, breathing through their skin! Western Red-backed Salamander (Plethodon vehiculum) and Ensatina (Ensatina eschscholtzii) live in forests, where they can be found in spring by turning over logs (be sure to replace divots!). They breed during winter, laying their 10 eggs in a cluster in such sheltered places, and the female guards them from invertebrate predators until they hatch.

Most of the other salamanders of the Pacific Northwest are locally distributed and uncommon, but they are worthy of attention by any naturalist fascinated by creepy-crawly critters. There is a good reference book: Amphibians of the Pacific Northwest, by L. L. C. Jones, W. P. Leonard, and D. H. Olson, eds., Seattle Audubon Society, 2006.

Dennis Paulson