I'd been working in our sitting room several weeks ago, clearing out what we'd stored there so that the walls could be painted, when I chance to look out the glass doors to the deck. Sitting on the tube feeder was a bird I had never seen before. It was chubby and black, with white splotches on its back as if someone had flicked a paintbrush dripping with white paint at it. There was no pattern to the splotches that I could discern, and I wondered if one of the crows had gotten in the way of someone's exterior paint job. Then the bird turned its head to the side, and I was given a profile view of a large beak, much larger than a finch's and far from the slender beak of the blackbirds and grackle.
Of course, as soon as I took one step towards the kitchen and my bird book, it flew off. I spent the next hour paging through the book in search of black birds with white splotches. Nothing. I hopped online and Googled black white splotches bird. Some of the links led to awful medical descriptions of conditions with white splotches (how those had anything to do with birds, I don't know) while others led to more useful birding sites. Still, nothing came up that was even close to my chubby splotched friend.
I hoped that he'd be back the next day, but I waited in vain. He didn't return, and again I began to worry that some poor black bird was suffering from a paint-related condition and was in agony due to the chemicals it had come in contact with. However, my daily monitoring tours did not uncover any dead bird resembling the splotched mystery bird.
A week later, my sons and I were having lunch when JTR pointed out the glass door and said, "Hey, Mommy, there's a new bird. What kind of bird is that?" I looked out the kitchen window and saw a large-beaked bird with a white belly and a heart-shaped red splotch right over its chest. A Valentine bird! I thought. How cute! It was chubby like a puffin, with black back and wings. He stayed long enough for me to identify him: a rose-breasted grosbeak male.
According to the bird book, male grosbeaks were among the last of the spring birds to arrive and the first to leave. I'd say he was among the last -- it wasn't even spring any more! He seemed very content to perch on our tube feeder and snack on safflower seeds. The house finches that usually gathered there seemed to accept him without hesitation, too. I wondered if we were simply a stop on his migratory path north or not, and I risked reaching for the camera. Of course, he flew off. The goldfinches and house finches stayed on their feeding perches, however. They were quite used to us, and even M jumping around waving his arms at the window did not affect them in the least.
JTR was disappointed that his new bird left, and I consoled him with the fact that he might be back if he considered us a good source of food. I promised to take a photo of JTR's bird for him should he return -- a quick way to put a smile on a 6 year old's face.
One day passed, then two, then three. The chubby grosbeak must have moved on, I decided. JTR accepted that -- he's becoming quite the young birder. Then, one afternoon, as I was about to head out to refill the orioles' jelly feeder, JTR cried out, "He's back! He's back! Quick, Mommy, get your camera!"
The jelly jar almost clattered to the floor in my haste to grab the camera. Of course I knew exactly what JTR meant: the grosbeak was back.
Was he ever! He was sitting patiently on the deck rail, facing the window, as if he were waiting to introduce himself socially. Next to him perched a chubby brown and white bird with thick white eyebrows and an equally large beak. Mrs. Grosbeak, I presumed. They sat there, facing us, while I quickly snapped a few shots, then Mr. Grosbeak bobbed and, as if on cue, the couple moved to eat at the safflower feeder, Mr. Grosbeak showing his coat of white-splotched black feathers as he flittered over. Aha - mystery solved.
Their behavior immediately brought to mind an image of a well-mannered, somewhat portly, middle-aged British couple. Proper introductions, some time for social pleasantries, then dinner. Much to my amusement, Mr. and Mrs. Grosbeak followed this routine on a daily basis, sometimes alone, sometimes together: sit on the deck rail, wait to be noticed, then eat. Invariably, the grosbeaks would cast a look in my direction, as if asking for permission to begin to dine. How very proper, especially compared to our flock of American goldfinches, who simply gorge themselves on thistle and squabble amongst themselves for the best perch on the feeder. Perhaps the finches would learn a thing or two about "table" manners from my well-mannered feathered friends, but if not, I still have the summer to enjoy them... and perhaps use them as examples to my own unfeathered offspring.
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