Yellow-headed Blackbirds

I realize that with each new season, I have a tendency to gush about why that particular time of year is the most beautiful, special, wonderful, etc.  In the summer, my affection is easily won during trips to the Sierra Nevada, where long hours of sunlight, balmy temperatures and the scent of warm pines on the breeze woo hikers and campers.  In the autumn, as the winds change and leaves begin to turn brilliant colors, I am awed by blazing aspens in the mountains, mellow golden woodlands and the return of certain birds.  Winter sees the Sierra under snow while the Central Valley is blanketed by tule fog and heavy gray skies, but wonder awaits in the wetlands of the Valley where tens of thousands of overwintering waterfowl provide a winged spectacle like no other.  

But the spring - oh, the spring! - the spring season is when the wild lands come  joyously to life again, bursting into glorious color and song as wildflowers carpet meadows and hills, and myriad birds, many recently returned from tropical winter vacations, fill the verdant trees and azure skies with the sweetest music.

The exception in this otherwise sweet and melodious avian choir is, of course, the Yellow-headed Blackbird (scientific name of Xanthocephalus xanthocephalus, which literally means "yellow head yellow head" in Greek.  Apparently it is so defining a feature it had to be said twice!).

Imagine this: you're standing at the edge of a lush, green wetland, enjoying the fresh breeze, the sensation of warm spring sunshine, and the sound of hundreds of cheery Red-winged Blackbirds happily singing as they see to their domestic affairs in the reeds.  Then you hear it: one loud, dissonant note, entirely at odds with the rest of the orchestra.  Like my high school concert band director, a good birder can pick out the source of the offending note at once.  Binoculars will turn at once to the culprit: a stocky black bird, with a white blaze on its wing and a strikingly brilliant yellow head.

While the Yellow-Headed Blackbird can be found in suitable habitat of the Central Valley twelve months of the year, it is never very abundant and is most commonly seen during the spring.  I've had the most success seeing them at Merced NWR in March or April, but San Luis NWR, especially the West Bear Creek Unit, and the San Joaquin River NWR occasionally turn up a few individuals as well.  Most recently, I first heard and then spotted a male along the wetland portion of the San Joaquin River NWR's Pelican Nature Trail.

Once you know where to find them, and what to listen for, Yellow-headed Blackbirds are hard to miss.  During the breeding season, males sing from exposed perches.  The first few notes he utters are fairly musical in quality, reminiscent of his kinship with Red-winged Blackbirds.  But then, like a clarinetist with a squeaky reed (i.e. myself in my high school days), he lets loose with a grating, buzzy sort of screech.  It's during this odd part of the song that he often contorts his head into the uncomfortable-looking position pictured below. 

As they are social birds that gather in large colonies to nest, just imagine what the whole lot of them sounds like!

Have a listen here.

Yellow-headed Blackbirds are birds of wetlands, marshy areas, and shallow bodies of water rimmed with stands of reedy vegetation.  They nest colonially in cattails, tules and reeds, often alongside Red-winged Blackbirds.  Breeding males select their own territories within the colony, defending it through - you guessed it - singing.  Each breeding male typically shares his territory with five to eight females that he breeds with and defends.  However, females will occasionally breed with neighboring males when their mate is away from his territory.

While large, brash Yellow-headed Blackbirds sometimes drive Red-winged Blackbirds and much smaller Marsh Wrens away from prime nesting territory to claim it for their own, it seems that the even larger and brasher Great-tailed Grackle may in turn out-compete the yellow-heads on occasion.  Interestingly, nest predators of the Yellow-headed Blackbird include bullying grackles and gulls, along with small but feisty Marsh Wrens (perhaps they are retaliating!)

Cornell's All About Birds website has an interesting note in the species account of Yellow-headed Blackbirds, commenting that they seem to show a preference for nesting near Forster's Terns whenever possible.  It seems the terns and blackbirds, both loud birds, work together to mob predators and sound alarm calls, warning each other of potential danger.  At the San Joaquin River NWR last week, where I saw one male Yellow-headed Blackbird and took the photo at the top of this post, there were also three Forster's Terns, along with plenty of Red-winged Blackbirds, nesting Marsh Wrens, and a few Great-tailed Grackles that were generally bullying everyone else.  It's always fascinating to watch as several species interact, particularly in the somewhat limited habitat of a restored wetland.