For the past two weeks I’ve been seeing a pair of cowbirds at the feeder hanging outside my studio window — quite often, because there’s no mistaking their song, and when I hear it I always stop work to watch them. They’re thieves and bullies, but they’re pretty, and if I’ve eaten eggs for breakfast, who am I to judge, anyhow?
This morning the male was here alone and, for the first time, noticed me through the window. I keep the blinds down but slatted open, partly to control the light but also to disguise my movements from the birds who would be, if the window were open, within arm’s reach (as well as to keep them from flying into the glass). Unless I move suddenly, the birds never seem to see me, even when they’re standing on the stone window ledge.
But this cowbird started watching me through the window, quite intently, bobbing his head, trying to get a better look through the slats into the comparatively dim light of the studio. So I whistled at him — not his own song, which I can’t mimic, but a sort of “yoo-hoo” mixed with a rising glissando to get his attention. He watched me awhile longer, then whistled back and displayed: stretched out his neck, puffed his chest, and spread his wings. I tapped on the window lightly, and he backed off but didn’t fly away, and in half a minute he was back. I waved and whistled, and he sang and displayed again. We kept this up for several minutes, and then he left.
According to the Audubon Society, he thinks I’m a rival, not a potential mate: female cowbirds prefer less dramatic displays. But he didn’t seem overly concerned. Hopefully he’ll be back. He’s got mettle, that one.