Birding Brevard: Some Birds Tell Us What They Are

By Dave Freeland

So far in this series of columns on bird identification, we've covered the basics of birds that we can see. First, its size. Second, its shape. Third, its field marks. Fourth, its habitat. Fifth, its habits.

Those five areas will support most bird identifications. But in this column, we review birds that must or can be identified by what we do not see but only hear -- their voice.

It's obvious to us that some birds simply must be identified by voice. There are those nocturnal birds -- owls, goatsuckers. And those secretive birds -- marsh dwellers like rails and marsh wrens, for instance. I we don't hear them, we won't even know they're there.

Many species of birds are also so similar in their size, shape, field marks, etc. that hearing them vocalize is the only sure way of knowing what they are. The empidonax group of flycatchers is a good example. You can't tell an Alder Flycatcher from a Willow Flycatcher unless we hear it sing.

Unfortunately in Florida, migrating birds just don't sing as much as they do in the North where I moved here from. When one visits Institute Woods in Princeton, the Connecticut River Valley, Trillium Trail outside Pittsburgh or Delaware Park in Buffalo in spring, a medley of bird song provides a symphonic backdrop to our birding. Here in Florida, whether at Tampa's Fort DeSoto or Cocoa Beach's Lori Wilson Park, the migrants are quiet. They wait till they're nearer their breeding grounds to begin singing.

Still, knowing bird songs and calls is essential to knowing what species we have around us. How do we learn bird song?

My mentor, Doug Sands, used a technique with us youngsters that we found was fun as well as educational. Just like in the classroom, he'd take us out early in the morning with a pad of paper and a pencil and point to birds -- or toward a bird song we were hearing -- and our job was to identify it and mark it down for checking with him at the end of the walk. Belted Kingfisher rattling. Got it. Bird singing "see me, I see you, see me, I see you." I quickly learned it was a Red-eyed Vireo and I've never forgotten its song.

Try to go out with someone who knows bird songs well and pay attention to what he or she is hearing and why it's what it is. Or quiz yourself, if you can, like Doug Sands did. Knowing bird songs and notes will quickly add to your enjoyment of our wonderful pastime, and you'll learn so much while you're enjoying it.

Where to Go: A good place to observe the changing spectacle of bird seasons, at least of the waterbirds, is Avocet Lagoon at the end of Mullet Road, Port Canaveral. Pass through Port's End Park and go under the highway overpass. Follow the road to its end at the Canaveral Lock and walk up onto the levee, turning right to observe the lagoon.

Bird of the Month: Chuck-will's-widow. In keeping with today's theme of bird song identification, now is the time this migrant will begin establishing its territory for the 2008 season, calling its name in early morning at any good woodland in our area. Listen for your first "Chuck" and be comfortable knowing that you have identified it well before you have actually seen one, if in fact you ever do.

Your Question: This is the second year on this date that robins, by the hundreds, have come in our backyard to eat the holly berries and sit in the sun. It is a sight to see. Am I correct? Do robins come this way?

A -- Yes, American Robins are very common winterers in Central Florida. They're nuts about Brazilian pepper fruit. We have robins from about mid-October to mid-March in large numbers.

Forward your birding question to me at freela148@aol.com. I'll answer as many as I can directly and will publish one each month in The Limpkin.