A western meadowlark perches on sagebrush at Antelope Island. He’s watchful and silent, and looks like a chubby finial with more horizontal to his posture than vertical.
Western meadowlarks are members of the blackbird family and are barely black at all. Their crowns are a striking brown and white striped, becoming a highly variegated brown and white pattern down the back, wings, and tail. A bird’s most striking plumage begins with its bright yellow-gold spots between the eyes and the base of the bill, and continues solidly on throat, breast and belly. The brilliant color is interrupted only by an arresting black V just below the throat.
That V points downward toward the meadowlark’s … er … girth. A western meadowlark is a chunk of a bird with a shape reminiscent of a grouse or quail rather than a blackbird. A resting meadowlark’s posture is hunched with head sucked to his body with no visible neck. The portly body’s circumference draws additional emphasis from the short tail. While songbirds are often diminutive, this one is no petite parcel while still being the finest of vocalists.
The song of neighboring meadowlarks is all around the silent one and inspires him. He stretches tall and points his head skyward. His sharp blue and black bill opens and his short spike of a tongue flails deep in his gape as the song bursts forth.
It’s clear. Melodious. Liquid. Bubbling. Beautiful. And it’s like no other bird song you’ll hear in early spring.
It begins with two clear two-syllable notes, the second pair at a higher pitch, and then continues into the robust, bubbling warble: “Pee-yur, PEE-YUR. Dibbley-ur, dibbley-ur.”
The song is nature therapy for the winter-weary.
A poet would say the bird is joining the symphony. The scientist would say he’s trying to attract a female and to defend his territory. The pundit would interpret the song as: “Calling all ladies! Single male, good homeland defender, wants to hook up with several cute chicks for the season to make babies.”
In fact, that single male will do a lot of advertising, as most males pair with two or three females as soon as the girls arrive from wintering grounds up to a month after the males’ arrival. The males will continue to sing to defend their territory as the females perform all of the nest-building and incubating, and most of the brood-rearing.
But that’s still a little way off from the song activity of the moment.
Other birds at Antelope seem to be positioned for the spring serenade. A meadowlark perches atop a sagebrush just two feet from a chukar facing him on a low rocky outcrop. The meadowlark bubbles forth with his two-second melody. The poet would see the chukar’s alert pose and say it harkens to the meadowlark’s song. The scientist would say the two birds’ territories overlap and they live companionably because they exploit different microhabitats. The pundit would say, “Look how chubby those two birds are! Are they related?!?”
The meadowlark might launch into a short chase flight with a burst of wing flaps and a short glide just like the chukar would when surprised. The differences would be in the purposes of the flight and the accompanying song. While a chukar is likely to flush from danger, a meadowlark is intent on chasing a male intruder out of his territory and pursuing a potential mate. His musical accompaniment for this behavior is also a warble, although thinner while still musical and still beautiful. The chukar would be lucky to trade its grating clucks for the meadowlark’s pursuit song!
Open grasslands and rangelands ring with meadowlark song right now. While Antelope Island is one of the best places to hear and see them, so is most agricultural land and nearly any brushy, open area.
A meadowlark perched on a fencepost and singing his heart out is an iconic image and sound of the western two-thirds of the United States.
Trying to describe this song with words is a bit arrogant or at the least, foolhardy, because any attempt falls pitifully short of the real thing. So you don’t have to tolerate my puny words as a true reflection of the spring meadowlark symphony, get outside. Go birding. Visit Antelope Island or your nearest fencepost, close your eyes and harken to the western meadowlark. His song is sublime.
Kristin Purdy can be reached at gobirding@comcast.net.
Listen to western meadowlark singing:
