There is a bird of the summer countryside that at times almost
appears to carry a chip on his wing. He is absolute ruler of the
weedy meadow and brushy fenceline that are often included in his
little kingdom, and he goes about his insect catching duties very
businesslike, dressed in his formal black and white.
A trademark he appears to wear proudly is the white band
boldly adorning the tip of his black tail, the eastern kingbird,
tyrant of tyrants.
Native Americans called this pugnacious flycatcher
"Little Chief." Early English settlers, fed up with
the life they had led under the demanding rule of a king, tabbed
him the "King Bird." Should you by chance wander too
closely to his nest he will quite savagely show you why the
scientists named him Tyrranus tyrranus (pronounced
ter-RAN-nus).
How we wait for the arrival of the eastern kingbirds in early
May. Their stay is quite short and by early-September they are
on their way to southern Mexico and beyond to South America,
countries including Columbia, Peru, and Bolivia, for the duration
of the winter.
One can hardly mistake an eastern kingbird with any other bird
in Wisconsin. The dark slate-colored back, black head and white
undersides of this chunky nine-inch spitfire are usually
sufficient fieldmarks for quick identification. Add to those the
white band bordering the tip of the tail, a distinctive feature
of only this flycatcher, and you can’t miss.
Some books picture the kingbird’s bright orange crown patch.
This cannot be seen under ordinary viewing conditions. I have
seen it twice, once on a dead specimen found on the highway, and
the other on a live bird, spitting mad, that I captured in one of
my mist nets while banding birds several years ago. That bird
was downright antagonistic and shrieked at me constantly. It
fought vigorously to escape from my hands as though to say,
"They don’t call me kingbird for nothing!"
The young resemble the adults with the exception of the orange
crown-patch which they lack. A general rule regarding the
plumage of birds is that when adult male and female are alike in
appearance, their young too will closely resemble them. If the
adult male is brightly colored, the cardinal for example, while
the female is comparatively dull colored, then the young (both
male and female) in their first coat of feathers will resemble
the adult female.
This courageous bird will not hesitate a second in attacking a
much larger bird that happens to quite unsuspectingly fly too
closely to the kingbird’s feeding or nesting territory. Many
other birds, including hawks and crows, will be forcefully
evicted, often with pecking blows, by this militant little aerial
caretaker of most farms and old orchards. There are cases on
record of them even attacking low flying airplanes!
Don’t expect a melodic song from the eastern kingbird. His
fast quivering wingbeats and feistiness are matched by a rather
shrill, jerky, stuttering "dzeet dzeet dzeet" call.
Its bulky nest is frequently built near the top of an old
apple tree. A pair chose an old scrawny half-dead paper birch
tree as their nesting site near our early morning birding route a
few years ago and I stopped there with my group for a closer look
at the tyrant flycatchers. I had walked ahead of the group
toward the tree and, just for the fun of it, kissed the back of
my hand loudly to imitate the cries of the young in the nest.
Like a flash one of the kingbirds was after me – swooping and
diving and "cussing" me out at the top of its squeaky
voice. I was forcefully and unceremoniously ousted from its yard
and told never to return!
My favorite and much more pleasant experience with an eastern
kingbird occurred during one of the summers in the early 1950’s
while I was by working for the Larsen Canning Company at one of
their pea viner stations west of Kewaunee, making money so I
could go to college. The viners were situated on a high hill
overlooking the broad Kewaunee River valley, a magnificent
panoramic pastoral scene. The door of the outhouse faced the
valley, away from the working area, and if there was a door we
never closed it. The view was too beautiful!
Nearby, within clear view of the "throne," stood an
old rusty hay loader that came to be a favorite perch for a
family of eastern kingbirds that lorded over the fields around
the station. What a sudden and wonderful change of atmosphere
took place whenever we used the old wooden privy, from the smelly
fermenting pea vines and earsplitting clamor of the viners to the
peaceful country scene and the delightful skittery music and
aerial performances of the kingbirds.
It was then and there that this provocative little flycatcher
became one of my favorite birds of the peaceful summer
countryside.
An eastern kingbird scans the countryside over
which it "rules."
This column appeared in the Door County Advocate
on 06/15/2001.
© Copyright 2001 Roy Lukes. All rights reserved.
