Mark Lynch
Bird Day: A Story of 24 Hours and 24 Avian Lives. Mark E. Hauber. 2023. University of Chicago Press. Chicago, Illinois.
“We will travel to every continent in just twenty-four hours, a true bird day.” (xi)
Certain birds are associated with certain times of the day. Since their domestication, roosters have been associated with the start of dawn. Owls have been associated with the night and, therefore, were seen as symbols of evil and omens of death. One exception was the diurnal Little Owl (Athene noctua) which became a symbol of Athena in Ancient Greece. William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet has a fine scene in which identifying the bird song they both heard will determine whether there will be more teen trysting or a bittersweet departure:
Juliet: Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day:
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierced the fearful hollow of the ear;
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree;
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
(William Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet. Act III Scene 5)
The song of the nightingale would mean that it is still night and Romeo could stay on, but a lark song would mean dawn is here and Romeo needs to get out of there before they are discovered. Romeo knows his bird songs and as much as he would like to stay, he recognizes a lark song when he hears one. I have always had a problem with this passage as the songs of the two birds are nothing alike. The European Nightingale (Luscinia megarhynchos) is a bird of wet thickets and forests, whereas the Eurasian Skylark (Alauda arvensis) is a bird of farmlands and fields. Furthermore, if a nightingale sings every night outside of Juliet’s bedroom one would think she would be very familiar with that song and would not confuse it with a lark. One can only assume that fair Juliet knew it was a lark too. The takeaway is that youthful lust and field identification of bird song do not mix.
Birders naturally associate certain birds with certain times in their birding day. I associate the pre-dawn hours with rails and the best time to hear the springtime “dawn chorus.” After sunset is the time to listen for woodcocks and whip-poor-wills. The crepuscular part of the day is the best time to look for Short-eared Owls. During the heat of mid-day in summer, sometimes the only birds you will hear will be Red-eyed Vireos. Mark E. Hauber’s wonderful Bird Day takes each of the 24 hours in a day and writes about the behavior of a species during that hour.
Mark E. Hauber is a professor and executive director at the Graduate Center of the City University of New York. He has also done extensive research on birds in Europe and New Zealand. His concept for following 24 species over the course of a 24-hour period is an intriguing one and makes for an entertaining read. Bird Day begins at midnight with the Barn Owl and ends at 11 pm with a European Robin that Hauber heard singing at that hour in January. The choice of species is eclectic and sometimes personal. When he could, Hauber chose species he was familiar with, and because of his travels, the list is somewhat exotic. There is an American Robin (8 am) and Black-crowned Night-Heron (9 pm), but there are also the Ocellated Antbird (noon) and Standard-winged Nightjar (6 pm sunset). Each hourly entry is short, around eight pages including a full-page illustration. These black and white drawings by Tony Angell are the perfect complement to the engaging text.
Each section focuses on the behavior of that species particularly at that hour. Typically, there are tidbits from research on that species. One of my “most wanted” species, New Zealand’s “owl parrot,” the Kākāpō, represents 3 am. This species is critically endangered and conservation scientists are always trying out new methods to help the bird breed. In Bird Day we learn that a supplemental feeding program had dramatic unintended consequences:
Even for kākāpō, there can be too much of a good thing. In years of low rimu fruiting, conservation scientists aimed to fatten up female kākāpō with an all-you-can-eat buffet of nuts and pine cones. Why? They wanted to give them the body weight needed to carry chicks even when their natural food supply was sparse. And put on weight the females did! They also began to lay eggs in these years of artificial plenty. But something strange happened–these eggs hatched into mostly male kākāpō. This was not what the conservation scientists wanted! (p. 21)
Hauber has an interest in brood parasitism, so it is not surprising that he includes Brown-Headed Cowbird (5 am) and Common Cuckoo (4 pm). Both species are well-known brood parasites, but their strategies to accomplish this parasitism are very different. Female cowbirds lay their eggs in the host’s nest when it is still rather dark. How do they find the target nests in such low light? Hauber reveals that they scout during daylight hours and then lay early the next morning.
How does a cowbird know where she’s headed so early in the morning? She cannot spend her time searching for nests, typically well hidden in dense vegetation at this hour of the day. Instead, she relies on reconnaissance performed during the previous days. When the sun is out, she goes nest-searching, and she must remember the particulars of where suitable nests are located and where she can lay an egg without detection. (p. 32)
But the Common Cuckoo of Eurasia lays its egg in the host’s nest with the unhatched chick much further along in development:
Unlike the cowbird, the cuckoo keeps her egg in her oviduct to be incubated for an extra day before she lays it in the nest of another species, replacing one of the host species’ eggs. Why should cuckoo eggs be “preincubated” before laying? Preincubation gives the cuckoo chick a chance to hatch earlier. This early start spells doom for the host’s clutch and brood, as the young cuckoo is a vicious killing machine. Within two to four days of hatching, while still naked and blind, the cuckoo chick pushes all the other eggs and chicks from the nest, often while helpless foster parents watch. These attempts to eliminate their competitors may go on for days. In one study, the cuckoo chicks kept tossing even as the researchers returned the evicted eggs to the nest again and again. (p. 91–92)
Bird Day is a unique book, informative and fun. Even its size is different from most other bird books: a tiny seven inches by five inches. It is the perfect book to keep on your nightstand or even in your bathroom. As the book ends there is a strong message from Hauber about global climate change and protecting birds’ habitats:
“Therefore, this book is an urgent call for us to do everything within our means to put a stop to these devastating patterns and trends.
We have spent today together. Let us work together for all birds—and the future generations of their fans—tomorrow.” (p.135)
A final word of warning to Juliet about the Nightingale (4 am):
“But in truth the nightingale pair-bonds are not as faithful as they seem.” (p. 25)
To listen to my interview with Mark E. Hauber, go to: <https://wicn.org/podcast/mark-e-hauber/>
NB: if you have young people in your family or enjoy picture book art yourself, check out the always interesting Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art (carlemuseum.org) in Amherst. There is a fine exhibition currently on view until August 25, 2024, titled “Birdwatching With Eric Carle.” This show features artwork from 28 books of the world-famous children’s book author and illustrator. The museum is in the Connecticut River Valley just a short drive west of south Quabbin, and it is well worth your time. To listen to my interview with the curator of this exhibition, go to: <https://wicn.org/podcast/ellen-keiter/>