Tufted Titmouse
Hooray! The tufted titmouse is here to give us a chance to practice the identification skills we picked up earlier in the guide. Like with many birds, the easiest way to identify titmouse vocalizations is by comparing them to other birds. The titmouse conveniently sounds like a cross between a black-capped chickadee and a blue jay on drugs (no surprise there, blue jay).
The Titmouse and the Babysitter’s BF
The tufted titmouse, although unfortunately named, thinks he’s a cool guy. Still, nobody could be as cool as his babysitter’s boyfriend. Little Tufted Tit reminds the couple they are there most exclusively to watch his cousin, Chickadee, who is already tucked into bed like a little baby. Tufted titmouse insists he gets to stay up late. To sound impressive, he imitates the cool babysitter’s boyfriend, Blue Jay. Remember, Jay often shrieks,
“Jay! Jay! Jay!”
Tufted Titmouse gives this a try. He calls out his own name— sort of. Tufted Titmouse rightly hates his given name, and insists others call him Peter.
“Peter! Peter! Peter!”
He calls in a voice that sounds similar to the jay’s clownish cop whistle impression. Titmouse is trying for anything but clownish. He takes himself most seriously.
Jay shows no interest, only mild irritation. Titmouse wants to stay up late with the big kids. He tries another tac. He knows about jay’s little hobby. He announces this knowledge to the world, hoping jay will be impressed,
“Weeder! Weeder! Weeder!”
That’s the 6th grader word for what the upper levels are doing when they skip class at Tufted Titmouse Academy. Neither the babysitter nor her boyfriend are impressed. Titmouse tries again— acts like the others are missing the joke,
“Neener! Neener! Neener!”
He won’t quit. He sings out his poor imitation of the blue jay’s whistle even after the babysitter threatens she’ll tell Grandma EVERYTHING.
A Brief Anecdote on Chickadee’s Rivalry with Cousin Titmouse (and Grandma’s Bias)
By day, Tufted Titmouse really does feel like a cool guy. He can tell his cousin, the black-capped chickadee, envies him for his size, his crest, his golden fringed vest, his big city accent. Chickadee does envy him, but takes solace in the knowledge that no one will ever grace Grandma’s walls like he does. Titmouse may be cool, but chickadee is beloved.
Despite the Name, Let’s Get Serious
The tufted titmouse is in fact cousin to the chickadee. Chickadees and titmice reside in the family Paridae. The titmouse is larger and more aggressive than the chickadee, but the cousins can be found foraging in the same flocks. They share many physical and behavioral traits, but the titmouse is larger and often more aggressive.
If you hear something that sounds like it could be a chickadee’s cousin with a big city accent, check it out. Titmice often repeat the “dee-dee-dee” part that’s familiar from the chickadee call. When they say it, it’s buzzier, messier, and often louder.
During breeding season, if you hear that call interspersed with a song that sounds like a chemically impared jay doing its traffic cop clownish whistle, you may be on the trail of a titmouse.
The titmouse insistently repeats its two syllable song. Like chickadees, titmice remain relatively (relatively!— everyone has boundaries that should be honored!) unperturbed by the presence of people, meaning if you are respectful about it, you can poke around and track them down without scaring them away. Like chickadees, they’re cavity nesters that travel in mixed winter flocks. If you’re catching sight of a titmouse in winter, keep your eyes and ears peeled for chickadees, nuthatches, and woodpeckers. If you are hearing a lot from them in spring, keep on the lookout for promising nesting cavities. What could be more adorable than a baby titmouse?
Around southern Wisconsin anyhow, titmice are less common than chickadees. With their fancy crest and sleek plummage (that is just the absolute most fun and perfect color to paint with watercolor), they are a true gem of a bird. Catching a glimpse of one of these guys is always a treat.
Titmouse song sounds a lot like the jay’s whistle but always made of two notes repeated.
Titmouse call demonstrates their relation to chickadees with the repeated “Dee-dee-dee.”
American Robin
Robins are the literal early bird that gets the worm. As the dawn chorus’s opening act, robins start to sing well before sunrise.
Like a good yard sale, the robin speaks to the suburban experience. On a summer day look out at any lawn, and you’re likely to see a robin. Watch telephone wires, treetops, clotheslines, anyplace with a foothold and a prominent view, and you’ll eventually catch sight of a robin. Because they are ubiquitous, robins are a good “early bird” for practicing identification as a beginning birder.
Robin songs are easily identified through temporal cues. They are among the first birds to sing each morning. Robin song dominates the earliest half-hour or so of the dawn chorus. When I worked as a songbird survey technician, it was my job to wake up before sunrise to get out when birds are most vocally active in the wee morning hours. I associate robin song with those moments in bed just after my alarm has sounded but before I’ve gotten the gumption to rise and make my way out to the field. It’s still pitch-black outside, but the robins are already at it, singing their lilting melodies. For me, their song conjures that feeling of resistance the body makes when its begging to press snooze but forced into action. The robins were their own sort of alarm clock, telling me I’d reached beyond the realm of snooze.
Above: The robin’s song consists of a flowing melody that sounds as if it’s pulling loopy-di-loops on itself. Many species sound similar to robins, but theirs is the only call to fray into nearly inaudible high notes.
Above: Cheaps appear as isolated spikes
Robins must love good deals, the way they’re always yelling, “Cheap, cheap, cheap.” Maybe they are excited about yardsale deals, but more likely they are feeling territorial. Robins often nest near human activity, and in doing so, they put themselves and their nests in our paths. When we cross those paths, robins often scold us with relentless, close-range cheaps. Since it’s so common, novice birders will do well to pay attention and learn to describe the call. Some useful descriptors might include: loud, sharp, and insistent. Think about how the call rates next to other things you hear around the yard, on your walk to work, in the parking lot, wherever. If you learn the topography of the robin’s call, you can later employ it as a baseline of comparison for other species.
I also associate robins with rain, with that feeling of stepping with bare feet onto a steaming sidewalk after a passing summer shower. Robins break into song after rain as if they are celebrating the return of the sun. It’s a jovial song with lots of ups and downs, most often sung in a chorus (individual robins chiming in across the land), so that the song of the robin adds its own color to the ornate tapestry of this Midwestern landscape.
Recently fledged robins appear a bit clownish with their speckled bellies and overlarge beaks. Through peak yard sale season, watch them hop their ways towards the day when they grow their big-kid feathers and fly away..
Robins also make a high pitched, sometimes barely audible alarm call that goes something like, “sssssp.” Alarm calls across species are often high-pitched, consisting of frequencies that are hard for predators (like people) to track. If you think you hear a robin’s alarm call, take a second to stand still and scan the ground and low branches for birds. It’s good practice for your ears to follow sounds to their source, and it’s good practice to take a cue to pause and re-attune yourself to your surroundings. If the day is going along as usual and everyone seems to be calmly going about their business before you hear a sudden flurry of “ssssssps,” take the chance to look for the source of the robin’s alarm. Tuning into alarm calls is a great way to catch rare glimpses of more elusive wildlife.
That’s what’s great about robins. They are so common, they offer us a thread that’s always within reach and sturdy enough to keep us connected to the natural world. Wherever we are, however busy or distracted, there’s a robin doing its robin thing, singing its robin song, reminding us that there’s a whole world out there ready and waiting for us to take notice.