Cardinal Mate Swap

For at least a half-dozen years we have enjoyed watching our resident pair of cardinals go about the business of foraging, feeding, and rearing their young. We've been treated by their song, their beauty, and antics of the babies. I have written before that, because of the distinctive coloring of the male and female, we can easily tell them apart. Moreover, because the male is very territorial, he prevents any other male from setting up residence in our clearing; therefore, this is the only pair of cardinals we've seen around the homestead. In fact, we've watched them so many times over the years that we've gotten to know both of them—almost as family members. Their behavioral quirks have become quite familiar.

That's why I was rather startled when I watched an adult female cardinal fly to the feeder, a week or so ago. I was surprised because this was not our resident female. The breast of this bird was much lighter in color, her body was more slender, and her wings were a more somber shade of brown. I wondered if she was just passing through, which is odd in the middle of the brooding season; or if she'd soon be chased away by the larger resident female.

The new bird flew off and I went about my chores. A day or so later I spotted the newcomer again. I also recalled that I'd not seen the familiar old female in the meantime. Then I was surprised to see the male fly to the feeder one evening and join the new female. His behavior around her—eating with her, chipping back and forth as they did so, and then flying off with her—was exactly as he had done for years with his long-time mate. It hit me that this must be his new mate! I'm sure that he would not be cavorting with another female—unless his former mate was gone.

Over the next several days I watched the newly-mated pair come and go from the feeder—continuing to act like a typical cardinal couple. Something had happened to his old mate. I pondered the possibilities. I doubt that she's still alive—she'd not have surrendered her queendom of the clearing without a fight. I had watched her assertive ways for too many years to accept the fact that another female would likely dethrone her.

Cardinals may mate for just one season or for life—as our pair seemed to have done. What happens when one of the mates dies? Do they mourn the loss of the partner they've had for several years? Some people have observed the death of a mated bird, watched the behavior of the survivor, and interpreted it as grieving. This may be, but we humans have a propensity to read how we would feel in the situation into an animal's behavior. It's called anthropomorphism.

We humans will likely never know how an animal really feels. I once watched a black snake raid a bluebird nesting box, then kill and eat two babies, before I chased it off. The parents fought the snake noisily and gallantly, but I observed no mourning on their part, after the incident was over. Very soon they resumed feeding their two surviving babies (one of which I had picked up off the ground and put back in the box), behaving as if nothing had happened. They had important things to do.

As for my male cardinal and his new mate: How had he behaved at the loss of his former mate? Was he present when she met her end? Did she actually die? I can't believe that, as a settled pair for so long, he'd simply dump her. It seems odd that this would happen in the middle of the brooding season, but if she did die, why should he not promptly carry on? That indomitable spirit is what has kept this species going for millions of years.

This is yet another of those examples of what happens when you have the time to delve into an event in Mother Nature's wonderful world. You are able to learn some fascinating things—but for every single piece of knowledge you gather, you just uncover at least two more puzzling questions. It's what keeps my life here on the homestead an endless, interesting quest to understand the secrets of the natural world.

Carnal Cardinals

I have written several times about our resident pair of cardinals. I particularly enjoy watching their antics because they are the only two cardinals on the homestead, they are beautiful (especially the bright red male), and I can easily tell poppa from momma—so when I spot one of them I know that it's the same bird that I watched yesterday, last week, the last few years.

The pair is monogamous—they've fostered a few dozen broods over the years. (Cardinals in the wild—especially those who dine at well-stocked feeders—may live for up to 16 years!) Our resident cardinals often accompany each other around the clearing. Their behavior varies during the year, and is especially interesting to watch as the breeding season comes along. The male needn't worry about who he'll mate with, so he can forgo the competitive antics of other male birds, who must woo a mate. He rules the clearing—this is his lady. His fiefdom is secure. Their spring nuptial dance is fascinating to watch.

They are on intimate and familiar terms. Their communication is smooth and sure. Their language can be subtle—requiring only the most understated chipping sounds; like a long-time married pair of humans, who can get their point across with a brief look, a nod of head, and even finishing each other's sentences.

I recently watched our pair of cardinals at the feeder. During the fall and winter they literally ignore each other when they feed, but as breeding season comes on, they interact much more—chipping at each other, darting towards the other, with the male occasionally feeding her. As I observed their spring frolics recently, I imagined the following conversation between them.

She: Yeah, I know you're in a randy mood right now, but I'm more interested in my evening meal. (Later:) Where should we hide this year's nest? I wasn't very happy about last year's location. I didn't feel all that secure while I was brooding.

He: You pick the location then. Just don't make it too far from the feeder. Hey, baby, how about a little smooch?

She: Later, Romeo. Are you gonna slack off on nest building again this year, or can I count on more help from you?

He: Don't worry... I'll be there. What say we fly off and grab some juicy bugs? I'm getting tired of these sunflower seeds, day after day. Why can't those humans give us a little variety?

She: You don't appreciate me enough. Remember when you regurgitated a whole beak full of seeds and fed them to me? It was so sweet.

He: Well, if you insist. Get ready for a French kiss. Hey! What was that?! I just heard a testosterone-pumped guy singing down by the creek! This is my empire! I won't stand for this intrusion. You stay right here.. I'll be back soon.

The male flies off and begins singing loudly and imperiously, off towards the creek. The potential intruder's call fades off into the woods. The mating dance will again resume.