The groundhog said six more weeks of winter. For most of our migratory songbirds, it’ll be even longer. Some sparrows, swallows and flycatchers will return in April, but the colorful warblers won’t arrive until May. Many Maine-breeding species are still somewhere in the tropics, sipping piña coladas.
Meanwhile, Mainers have endured cold and snow for the last month, with more to come. Maybe it’s time to appreciate three species that stick with us through thick and thin. Ironically, none of them are Maine natives. Each was introduced from Europe hundreds of years ago.
Consider pigeons. Easy to take for granted, they’re actually remarkable. Our birds descend from domesticated European stock brought by colonists in the 1600s.
You’d never guess it, but pigeons are highly intelligent. They’re self-aware, able to recognize themselves in a mirror. Most birds, from chickadees to turkeys, see a reflection and think it’s another bird, often attacking their perceived rival.
Pigeons can count and recognize letters. They also have exceptional homing instincts. From a distance, they can find their way home even if blindfolded. Racing pigeons have returned from 600 miles away, reaching speeds up to 90 mph. Before radio, pigeons carried messages during wartime.
Even parking lot pigeons demonstrate remarkable intelligence. As far back as 5,000 years ago, they learned that people would feed them rather than eat them. They were among the earliest domesticated birds. Today, all our pigeons descend from once-captive birds that escaped, which is why the species is properly called the feral pigeon. They are so adaptable and widespread that ornithologists aren’t even sure what their original range was.
To a hawk, pigeons are fat and tasty. Pigeons know this, and they’ve evolved defenses against avian predators that you can easily observe. They flock, taking advantage of safety in numbers. They roost under cover — often beneath bridges — where it’s hard for an owl to see them or a hawk to swoop in. When it’s time to warm up on a cold winter morning, they huddle together in the sun on rooftops and wires, keeping a sharp eye out for trouble.
Some of these defenses are employed by two other species that followed similar paths to this continent. European starlings and house sparrows figured out long ago that food is always where people are, a strategy they put to good use in European cities for hundreds of years. Both were introduced to America in the 19th century.
They are cavity nesters, but unlike most native North American cavity nesters, they prefer manmade structures to trees — broken eaves, streetlamps and storefront marquees.
In fact, at least three Maine-breeding species show such a fondness for buildings that “house” appears in their names: house sparrow, house finch and house wren.
Like pigeons, starlings and house sparrows gather in flocks, collectively watching for trouble. Starlings are strong fliers; when danger approaches, the whole flock takes to the air, making themselves harder to catch. House sparrows aren’t as fast, but they’ve developed a defensive tactic few other birds use: perching deep inside bushes, where a diving raptor risks impalement on a branch.
All three of these imported species may visit bird feeders, sometimes to the disappointment of human residents. They can be a bit messy. If you want to discourage their visits, put out less desirable foods and limit the daily quantities in your feeder for a while.
I suggest admiring them for their good qualities. Starlings are named for the speckled pattern of stars on their otherwise dark-sky plumage. It’s truly attractive up close. House sparrows are so people-friendly, they look for every opportunity to visit us inside Home Depot. And pigeons are the ultimate city birds, congregating wherever people congregate.
These three imports aren’t our only year-round residents. Mourning doves stick around. All but two of our breeding woodpeckers brave the elements all winter. Crows and ravens move around to find food, but otherwise stay local during the cold months. Barred and great horned owls seldom travel far from where they were hatched.
I’ll celebrate and appreciate the neotropical migrants when they return. Meanwhile, I’m tickled to know some of my avian neighbors are true Mainers, through and through.
