Learning To Bird By Ear
This year, I started writing a monthly series of posts designed to help those who are brand new to birding, as well as those who are looking to improve their birding skills. I've been a life-long lover and student of all things nature, but it's only been about five years since I began to seriously watch, study, and record birds. Clearly, I have a long way to go and much to learn!
This month, I'd like to focus on the magical, mystical art of birding by ear.
Every bit as much art and music as it is science, birding by ear opens up worlds of possibility for the astute observer of birds. Most birds are highly vocal, with ranges of calls and songs tailored to various situations. Most commonly, bird vocalizations fall into two very basic categories: calls, such as contact calls, alarm calls, flight calls and begging calls, and songs, which are most commonly used by males in territorial defense and breeding. Also be aware of other types of sounds birds make, like the whistling wing flaps of Mourning Doves and the drumming of woodpeckers.
Ear birding used to absolutely mystify me. (And sometimes it still does!) How can a person walk into a forest and begin to separate the chip notes made by several dozen little birds, telling them each apart from all the other chip notes? It boggles my mind. And yet... I want to be that person! Compared to the real pros, I'm not very good at birding by ear (yet), but it's an area in which I am improving!
One of the best practices a birder can adopt upon entering a new area is simply to stop, be still, be quiet, and listen for several minutes. When moving along a trail, repeat this practice frequently.
Stop. Stand (or sit) still. Listen.
Good birders move slowly and quietly, deliberately stopping frequently at patches of promising habitat to listen very carefully. You will be amazed by what you hear when you really tune in and listen. More often than not, a bird's sound will alert you to its presence before you see it, especially in densely vegetated habitats.
Honesty time: I am bad at this. Like a child turned loose in a candy store, the second I jump out of the car at a birding/hiking/camping/exploring/nature spot, I'm off! There are trails to hike and rocks to scramble and mountains to climb and lakes to swim and wildflowers to find and so many birds and butterflies and trees and oh look a lizard and so very, very much breathtaking beauty and wonder everywhere I look! And I want to take it all in at once!
But this is not a very good practice for birding!
Slow. Down. And appreciate this slower, quieter pace. This is a rather steep learning curve for me. But I must slow down. While I walk between 3 and 4 miles per hour, and average 2 miles per hour while hiking over steep and rugged terrain, I am lucky to cover 1 mile in an hour of birding on foot! And that is the way it should be.
My second piece of advice for those who are brand new to ear birding is to start close to home, in your own backyard even, learning the birds you hear everyday. A great exercise for this is to simply sit quietly outside in the mornings or evenings (binoculars encouraged, cup of tea optional) and listen to the birds around you.
House Finches sing beautifully cheerful, melodious songs, and the bubbling effervescence of a House Wren's song is captivating. Northern Mockingbirds sing a complex string of melodies (even though they have an irritating habit of singing into the night during the breeding season - maybe only irritating for those of us who are light sleepers and sleep with the windows open!) The plaintive call of the Mourning Dove reminds me of my childhood at the house where I lived until I was nine. Start with a few of these common backyard birds and work from there.
Often, while working in our backyard orchard and garden, I am treated to lengthy serenades by an enthusiastic Northern Mockingbird. Perched at the top of our pecan tree, he runs through his entire repertoire of assorted songs, and it's always a delight to listen and pick out the different bird songs he mimics, splicing them seamlessly into his own song. Clear snatches of song I can pick out are usually those of Killdeer, Northern Flickers, Black Phoebes and European Starlings.
In the past couple of years, I've learned a good handful of our local birds and can now tell when there is a flock of Lesser Goldfinches or House Finches outside the window in the morning before I've even gotten out of bed! I can tell you when there are Cedar Waxwings, American Robins, Western Bluebirds or Pine Siskins perched at the top of the tree above us without even looking up. Tricolored Blackbirds can easily be differentiated from the more common Red-winged species by their hoarse songs, and in dense marsh vegetation, the songs of Marsh Wrens, bizarre sounds of American Bitterns, and calls of Soras and other rails are usually the first indication of their presence. I am often clued-in to annual migrations by sound: a flock of Sandhill Cranes, calling and croaking as they fly high overhead, the first snatches of spring song from newly-arrived Bullock's Orioles and Black-headed Grosbeaks, the first White-crowned Sparrow song of autumn.
Speaking of Black-headed Grosbeaks, just last week, I was stopped in my tracks during our daily morning dog walk by their now-familiar song. We were on the sidewalk of a main road through town, outside a church tucked in between subdivisions, but there it was: the operatic song cascading down from a locust tree planted in a lawn adjacent the church parking lot. I stopped and waited, listening, looking through the new green leaves until I spotted it: a male Black-headed Grosbeak, singing his heart out, a beautiful bird I would have missed had I not recognized the song.
Birding by ear is particularly valuable for identifying the presence of nocturnal birds. Owls are my favorite group of birds, and their calls always stop me in my tracks. I've been able to note the presence of quite a few nocturnal birds solely based on their songs and calls: Common Poorwills at Carrizo Plain, Barred Owls in Redwoods State Park, Mexican Whip-poor-wills and Whiskered Screech Owls in Arizona's Madera Canyon, Lesser Nighthawks at Saguaro National Park, and Western Screech-owls and Great Horned Owls in our own backyard.
Sometimes it helps to make up phrases that correspond with birds' songs. Common Yellowthroats say "Witchity-witchity-witchity," California Quail say, "Chi-ca-go," American Robins sing, "Cheerily, cheer up, cheer up, cheerily, cheer up." And I think the Pacific Slope Flycatcher whistles out a very distinct, "Hey you!" to passersby. It can also help to liken bird sounds to other common sounds: Great-tailed Grackles sound like rusty gates opening, Hermit Thrushes sound like a lovely flute, Wrentits sound like a bouncing ball, and Arizona's Sulphur-bellied Flycatchers sound for all the world like dogs' squeaky toys!
So, while I have infinite room for improvement, I've made a little headway. One tool I've used for this is eBird's sound quizzes. Set your home turf as the location and see how many local bird sounds you can recognize!
Another great resource is the Macaulay Library. I've been known to open several tabs at once, toggling back and forth between the songs of robins, grosbeaks and tanagers to puzzle out the subtle differences.
Also, check out the excellent blog of fellow Northern California birders, Miles and Theresa Tuffli, who do a lot of work with bird sounds and include high-quality audio recordings in most of their articles.
This month, I'd like to focus on the magical, mystical art of birding by ear.
 |
| The cheery song and soft chuck calls of the familiar backyard American Robin are easy to learn for beginning birders across North America. |
Every bit as much art and music as it is science, birding by ear opens up worlds of possibility for the astute observer of birds. Most birds are highly vocal, with ranges of calls and songs tailored to various situations. Most commonly, bird vocalizations fall into two very basic categories: calls, such as contact calls, alarm calls, flight calls and begging calls, and songs, which are most commonly used by males in territorial defense and breeding. Also be aware of other types of sounds birds make, like the whistling wing flaps of Mourning Doves and the drumming of woodpeckers.
Ear birding used to absolutely mystify me. (And sometimes it still does!) How can a person walk into a forest and begin to separate the chip notes made by several dozen little birds, telling them each apart from all the other chip notes? It boggles my mind. And yet... I want to be that person! Compared to the real pros, I'm not very good at birding by ear (yet), but it's an area in which I am improving!
One of the best practices a birder can adopt upon entering a new area is simply to stop, be still, be quiet, and listen for several minutes. When moving along a trail, repeat this practice frequently.
Stop. Stand (or sit) still. Listen.
Good birders move slowly and quietly, deliberately stopping frequently at patches of promising habitat to listen very carefully. You will be amazed by what you hear when you really tune in and listen. More often than not, a bird's sound will alert you to its presence before you see it, especially in densely vegetated habitats.
Honesty time: I am bad at this. Like a child turned loose in a candy store, the second I jump out of the car at a birding/hiking/camping/exploring/nature spot, I'm off! There are trails to hike and rocks to scramble and mountains to climb and lakes to swim and wildflowers to find and so many birds and butterflies and trees and oh look a lizard and so very, very much breathtaking beauty and wonder everywhere I look! And I want to take it all in at once!
But this is not a very good practice for birding!
Slow. Down. And appreciate this slower, quieter pace. This is a rather steep learning curve for me. But I must slow down. While I walk between 3 and 4 miles per hour, and average 2 miles per hour while hiking over steep and rugged terrain, I am lucky to cover 1 mile in an hour of birding on foot! And that is the way it should be.
 |
| The rollicking, on-going song of the Northern Mockingbird is a delight to listen to! |
My second piece of advice for those who are brand new to ear birding is to start close to home, in your own backyard even, learning the birds you hear everyday. A great exercise for this is to simply sit quietly outside in the mornings or evenings (binoculars encouraged, cup of tea optional) and listen to the birds around you.
House Finches sing beautifully cheerful, melodious songs, and the bubbling effervescence of a House Wren's song is captivating. Northern Mockingbirds sing a complex string of melodies (even though they have an irritating habit of singing into the night during the breeding season - maybe only irritating for those of us who are light sleepers and sleep with the windows open!) The plaintive call of the Mourning Dove reminds me of my childhood at the house where I lived until I was nine. Start with a few of these common backyard birds and work from there.
Often, while working in our backyard orchard and garden, I am treated to lengthy serenades by an enthusiastic Northern Mockingbird. Perched at the top of our pecan tree, he runs through his entire repertoire of assorted songs, and it's always a delight to listen and pick out the different bird songs he mimics, splicing them seamlessly into his own song. Clear snatches of song I can pick out are usually those of Killdeer, Northern Flickers, Black Phoebes and European Starlings.
In the past couple of years, I've learned a good handful of our local birds and can now tell when there is a flock of Lesser Goldfinches or House Finches outside the window in the morning before I've even gotten out of bed! I can tell you when there are Cedar Waxwings, American Robins, Western Bluebirds or Pine Siskins perched at the top of the tree above us without even looking up. Tricolored Blackbirds can easily be differentiated from the more common Red-winged species by their hoarse songs, and in dense marsh vegetation, the songs of Marsh Wrens, bizarre sounds of American Bitterns, and calls of Soras and other rails are usually the first indication of their presence. I am often clued-in to annual migrations by sound: a flock of Sandhill Cranes, calling and croaking as they fly high overhead, the first snatches of spring song from newly-arrived Bullock's Orioles and Black-headed Grosbeaks, the first White-crowned Sparrow song of autumn.
 |
| The male Black-headed Grosbeak is every bit as beautiful as his sweet, operatic song. |
Speaking of Black-headed Grosbeaks, just last week, I was stopped in my tracks during our daily morning dog walk by their now-familiar song. We were on the sidewalk of a main road through town, outside a church tucked in between subdivisions, but there it was: the operatic song cascading down from a locust tree planted in a lawn adjacent the church parking lot. I stopped and waited, listening, looking through the new green leaves until I spotted it: a male Black-headed Grosbeak, singing his heart out, a beautiful bird I would have missed had I not recognized the song.
Birding by ear is particularly valuable for identifying the presence of nocturnal birds. Owls are my favorite group of birds, and their calls always stop me in my tracks. I've been able to note the presence of quite a few nocturnal birds solely based on their songs and calls: Common Poorwills at Carrizo Plain, Barred Owls in Redwoods State Park, Mexican Whip-poor-wills and Whiskered Screech Owls in Arizona's Madera Canyon, Lesser Nighthawks at Saguaro National Park, and Western Screech-owls and Great Horned Owls in our own backyard.
Sometimes it helps to make up phrases that correspond with birds' songs. Common Yellowthroats say "Witchity-witchity-witchity," California Quail say, "Chi-ca-go," American Robins sing, "Cheerily, cheer up, cheer up, cheerily, cheer up." And I think the Pacific Slope Flycatcher whistles out a very distinct, "Hey you!" to passersby. It can also help to liken bird sounds to other common sounds: Great-tailed Grackles sound like rusty gates opening, Hermit Thrushes sound like a lovely flute, Wrentits sound like a bouncing ball, and Arizona's Sulphur-bellied Flycatchers sound for all the world like dogs' squeaky toys!
 |
| Listen for the plaintive Chi-ca-go call of the California Quail, indicating its presence in dense chaparral. |
So, while I have infinite room for improvement, I've made a little headway. One tool I've used for this is eBird's sound quizzes. Set your home turf as the location and see how many local bird sounds you can recognize!
Another great resource is the Macaulay Library. I've been known to open several tabs at once, toggling back and forth between the songs of robins, grosbeaks and tanagers to puzzle out the subtle differences.
Also, check out the excellent blog of fellow Northern California birders, Miles and Theresa Tuffli, who do a lot of work with bird sounds and include high-quality audio recordings in most of their articles.
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