Bird Tongues

I have written before of the different methods that our resident birds use to chow down on sunflower seeds at the feeder. Birds with beaks that are slender and pointed (like titmice, chickadees, and nuthatches) will grab a seed, fly to a nearby perch, wedge it with their feet against something, and hammer away with their bills until the husk cracks and exposes the inner meat. Others with stronger bills (finches and cardinals) will squat right at the feeder, pick up a seed, crunch down, and spit out pieces of husk. It’s fun to watch each technique and guess how they’re doing it.

While watching these contrasting methods recently, it occurred to me that, while I was interpreting the finches to be chewing on the seeds, it couldn’t be. Birds have no teeth! At best they are cracking the seed shell. So how do finches separate the “wheat” from the “chaff,” or husk from the nut? They’ve got to have a pretty adept tongue, I realized. If you think about how we humans eat, our tongue is very active, shoving food around our mouth and placing it between molars, so it can be ground into mush. (Except when we’re not quite a deft as we could be and grind down on our tongue. Ouch!) So I did a little research on the mouth organ of birds.

Their tongue is quite similar to ours—being attached to the floor of their mouths, from which it sallies skillfully and rapidly around to manipulate food into place. But there’s nothing scarcer than hen’s teeth, as the saying goes, so a bird cannot chew… thus in the case of the finch, it cracks. A bird’s bill is a horny material, much like our fingernails. In place of jaws they have an upper and lower mandible. Since they can’t chew, they have three ways of ingesting food: swallowing it whole (such as bugs) or breaking it up with either that tough bill (finches) or bashing it with a lance-like beak (titmice).

A finch has a long and fat tongue—shaped, as is the case for all birds, like its bill. The upper finch mandible has grooves inside it, into which the tongue maneuvers a seed, the viselike lower mandible closes for the crunch, and the shell is cracked. The finch quickly rotates the seed with that dexterous tongue and crunches again. It then spits out the husk pieces, still maneuvering that nimble tongue.

I’ve watched a cardinal or goldfinch perform this deft and rapid task many times—not able to understand the intricate tongue work happening. From now on I’ll see it weaving around inside that bill, with my mind’s eye. Hmmm, I wonder if they ever bite down on their tongue. I’ve not yet seen a finch flinch or yelp like I do when I crunch down on my tongue. Maybe there’s an advantage to having no teeth!

Wild Azalea (smells good too)

Bird Feeding: Helping or Harming?

We feed birds. We’ve been doing so for many years now—for various reasons, but I sometimes ponder whether our feeding them is for our benefit or theirs. We love to watch them buzz around the feeder; they are very entertaining. We like to feel that we are helping our feathered friends—especially during cold and snowy times. But are we really aiding them? Is it an act of anthropomorphizing to call them friends? Are we just making them dependent on us and thus less able to forage for themselves? How much do they need our food? We shudder when our cat catches one and wonder if we are just attracting them largely to serve as feline snacks.

These are not easy questions to answer. Numerous organizations and experts, with mixed results, have repeatedly considered them. Countless people feed birds and avian experts are chary about telling them that their efforts are not really helping. I’ve done some investigation and here are my current feelings. I stress the word “current,” because I believe that the jury is still out on the matter.

First the pros: As I said, we love to watch birds. They are beautiful and their antics provide unending fascination. In the process, we come to appreciate and understand them better. We mostly feed black oil sunflower seeds—a nutritious and energetic food. We add suet cakes and other kinds of nibbles, as the birds show their preferences. So we are giving them valuable nutrients that can help keep them healthy and better able to withstand cold winter nights and fend off disease. Studies have tended to show that feeding birds does not make them dependent—they’re still likely to go after other sources of wild food. Finally, when birds gather together around the feeder they can be safer than when alone, since more pairs of eyes are on the lookout for predators.

Now for the cons: The principle one for us is the cat. Although we want him to go after mice, he still catches half a dozen or so birds each year. I’ve rigged the feeder so that he can’t reach it and it’s out in the open, so he can’t hide behind something and ambush them. We severely scold him when he stalks the birds and keep him inside most of the day (to allow for his overnight mice hunting time). But it’s his nature to prey on birds. I believe we’ve minimized his success rate, but he’s still going to get a few. I’d like to believe that he’s culling out the less healthy ones, but that might be just a hope.

For some folks bird feeders attract other kinds of predators—especially hawks and even dogs. Since we’re home most of the time, we have never had a hawk close by, and our sweet dog ignores the feeder. But we are also aware that disease transmission can be a problem when birds crowd around a feeder.

So what’s the bottom line for us: Are we helping or harming our local birds? I believe that I can make a case for helping. Maybe the cat gets a few, but the birds are generally healthier than if they were on their own. Songbird mortality rates are quite high these days—what with withering habitat and plentiful predators (especially humans). I am conscientious about keeping the feeder always stocked and clean. We do our best to ward off predators. But I’m biased towards having birds around the place and am open to another conclusion.

Last of all, I’d like to think that our feeding efforts provide the local birds a little leisure time—and don’t we all like a little R and R… even birds?

April Waning Moon (left click to enlarge)

Cacophonous Cawers

A bird we hear more often than we see around here is the crow—more specifically, the American crow. You hear them frequently, because their call is loud and raucous and they’re likely to gather in a flock and engage in a bellowing tournament, as if to see which one of them can outshout the others. They are a funny bunch to listen to, as they get inventive and even a little silly, while engaging in their spontaneous spoutings.

The crow is a solid, big bird. It’s twice the size of a cardinal but outweighs it by a factor of 10. It takes some 40 chickadees to balance the weight of one crow! A crow is simultaneously ugly and beautiful. I guess maybe that dual feeling may be caused by its unsavory reputation, but when you see one close, you can’t help but admire the stark beauty of that absolute blackness. And it isn’t really utterly black, but has a gorgeous metallic sheen to it.

Crows have earned a repugnant reputation from gardeners—although we’ve never had one raid our tender veggie shoots, so we still like them. They are carrion eaters. On our back roads you’ll often see a crow lift into the air from the carcass of a squirrel, as you approach them around a curve. They also forage for garbage and are often plentiful around urban trashy areas. They walk with a strut, sort of a sailor’s swagger—looking cockier than a rooster. So they are not the cutest bird around, nor are their habits attractive.

Crows are one of our brainiest birds. They study other birds to gain an advantage (they love to steal food), they learn admirably well, and are excellent tool manipulators. They engage in complex social activities—one of the more noticeable being the aforementioned cacophonous chorus. Their flight is not the dipsy-doodle, undulating flight of smaller birds. They fly straight and strong—hence the expression “as the crow flies.”

But there also are times when the crow exhibits some amazing aerial acrobatics: when they’re going after a hawk. I recently glanced up to see a hawk perched in a nearby tree. I think a “caw” had caught my attention. Four crows were circling the larger predator and one dove straight at the hawk, who had to leap from its limb, lest that crow’s heavy bill impale it. Once in the air, all four crows aimed for the hawk. Even though it was twice the size of its harassers, the hawk fled down the creek with one crow literally on its tail, threatening to pull out one of its feathers.

Turn about is fair play, however, since I’ve also watched a handful of small songbirds (easily outweighed by one crow) close ranks and chase off the bigger black bird.

Each day I gain a little more appreciation for how some naturalists have made bird lore their life’s avocation. Many are the times that I’ve been stopped in my tracks by the arresting sight or sound of a bird. They are endlessly fascinating.

Spring Colors

Fibber Meter

In 2007 researchers in the Miniature Electronics Laboratory at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology invented a tiny device that is a very accurate lie detector. It senses both skin temperature and moisture level and then radios the data to a receiver, which analyzes the readings. It’s been shown in tests to have a 90% accuracy of discerning if the wearer is telling the truth or not. This device, known as FALSE (Factual Analyzer for Lies and Suspicious Emanations), can be disguised as an American flag pin and attached to the lapel of a suit.

The Psychology Department at Harvard then took up the research and conducted a one-year experiment, in which they implanted the FALSE sensor on several hundred unsuspecting subjects and monitored the number of lies they uttered. It was a double-blind experiment, in which those who attached the devices (they hired retired CIA agents) were kept incommunicado with those who recorded and analyzed the lie data.

Each subject was tracked for one week and the results were expressed as the average number of lies told each day. Here is a brief summary of the preliminary findings, as a function of the profession of the wearer of the FALSE sensor, in order of decreasing number of lies per day:

· Fox News broadcasters and radio talk show hosts: 100 (while on the air) and 30 (at other times)
· Lawyers: 75 (while in court) and 35 (at other times)
· Politicians: 60 (at all times)
· Bankers and corporate executives: 55
· Advertising agency personnel: 50
· Newspaper editors: 30
· Medical profession: doctors 15 and nurses 7
· The Shenandoah Hermit: 1

These are initial findings of an ongoing study. The research will continue, as other professions are being evaluated (some surprising findings about teachers and preachers have been leaked, showing some of them to score as high as 20). The scientists are also attempting to refine the results, to determine if the test subjects actually believed their lies, or were truly deceitful. (We all know which, in the case of politicians.) Stay tuned for the release of Phase 2 results, next month.