Wild Life / gray catbird

lil cutie deep in the leaves

Hello, friends — It’s June 1! Say “rabbit, rabbit” and get the good luck. I’ve been thinking about drawing as an act of radical ecology—can this be? Would you agree? Is observation an environmental action? Is it enough? Can we replace consuming with looking: at the sky, the one weird tree in the parking lot, the bonkers morning birds of summer? In that act of looking closely, minutes at a time, building into hours, do we become more empathetic, more alive, more human? At the very least it gives us something new to talk about, like the fish that catapulted itself out of the river this morning, in the air for a half second, wind in its gills. What a surprise! Send me your small stories of animal encounters (by email or on the website), and I’ll mail you a pencil drawing of the fish, some fun for summer. — Amy Jean

Oh the gray catbirds! What a riot, their bright, loud songs are such a joy on groggy mornings. They are a plucky, dapper sight, with their soft gray feathers and jet black cap. Over the years I have heard them singing out of dense shrubs and trees, hidden in deep corners. This year we have a pair nesting nearby, in a forsythia across from our front door.

The nest is a stick-y concoction the parents built a few weeks ago. The birds seem to be used to our comings and goings, always watching with one sharp eye. Sometimes we’re a little too loud, and the mother zips away in fright. Yesterday, I saw the first little fuzzy head appear, straining for food.

I am a little on edge for a successful fledge. We live in a wooded area, and there have been birds’ nests aplenty over the years in the giant shrubs around us. Often they end in some predator disaster. I’m not sure if nesting near the front door is a good move or not. I do wonder if we could be better architects for the creatures around us. It seems like a design problem we could solve.

For now, the birds are well protected. It looks dry and cozy in there. In a week or so, that fuzzy little head will become a fluffy ball that spills out over the edge with its siblings. Soon, they will all flap away. Our oldest teen has her driver’s license, and it is hard not to make these connections. It happens so fast, our heartstrings pulled tight.

Dear little catbird, sing your heart out, I hear you!

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Gray catbird links—

• Over the summer, gray catbirds (Dumetella carolinensis) have a vast range east of the Rockies. Keep an ear out for them, their songs can last up to ten minutes and do not repeat. [Cornell Lab’s Macaulay Library of bird song is fantastic]

• Gray catbirds, like their mockingbird relatives, are good mimics. Here’s a 5-minute feature on a total maestro in California who mimicked all the birds around him, as well as a chorus frog (the frog bit is spectacular! so funny to me). [via Cornell Lab of Ornithology]

• Don’t get them confused with cowbirds, who lay their eggs in other birds’ nests. Catbirds will actually destroy a cowbird’s egg, if they dare to try laying one in a catbird nest (which they do). [via Audubon]

Animal encounters in recent comments—

• Bald eagles seen from Amtrak! Whimbrel hi-jinx on the beach! And a link to the film Out of Plain Sight exposing the millions of barrels of toxic waste dumped in the ocean off of California. Thank you so much for sharing.

• I’m still watching this live-cam bald eagle nest—the juveniles are often just chilling, scratching their chins over a beautiful view, getting ready to fledge. [via YouTube]

Also—

• My gray catbird drawing is for sale. Some of the proceeds will go to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology because they’re amazing.

• I have two drawings in a big group exhibition, Thicket, opening next Saturday in Newport, Rhode Island: “There is a sense that the thicket is both compellingly lush and dangerous and also small and weedy.” Love this thought, with many thanks to artist and curator Kirstin Lamb.

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Wild Life #51 / this monthly newsletter is a place to learn about the life around us, one singing catbird at a time. I do this because I’m not sure what to do about the millions of species in danger of extinction. It means something to see and enjoy the life around us. Thanks for reading and sharing with family and friends.