During an early May morning in Maine, I was on a monthly conference call with some colleagues, occasionally multi-tasking on a few other projects, when I noticed that two robins outside my window (which was closed at the time) stopped moving.

I’m not talking a brief pause- instead, they were frozen in place. Not a muscle was moving.

Just a few minutes ago, they were hunting worms on the edge of the lawn. Now, two of them – one on the ground and one 5 feet up a witch hazel appeared immobilized. This caught my undivided attention.

Without thinking, I uttered something into the phone that made it sound like I was paying attention, then hit the mute button.  At that moment, I observed a second feature of the frozen robins.

Both  birds were intermittently opening  their beaks – only about 1/3 of the way open – then closing them.  It’s a “SEEEEEEET” alarm I said to the office manager. I put the handset on the desk and snuck out of the room quietly.

A thin, high-pitched “SEEEEEET” alarm from two frozen robins-who were both facing in the same direction – likely meant one thing: A dangerous raptor snuck in on them and was too close for comfort.

Using my mind’s eye to visualize the branches of the only large tree near the robins, a mid-sized American Beech, I realized going upstairs would give me a better view (and would likely not disturb the whole scene).

Sure enough, as I quietly and slowly walked toward the window (bird, especially raptors, can see into houses), I could see the robins, still frozen and still emitting their ventriloqual alarm.

I could also see the searching head and piercing eyes of a broad-winged hawk (a smaller buteo that can, and does, dispatch robins regularly in my neck of the woods), who was intently scanning the ground below for the robins that drew it in just a minute ago.

Without thinking, I decided to tap on the glass and see what happened.  In a flash, the hawk left it’s perch, going away from the robins, who, within 20 seconds (I counted) began vocalizing their discontent for the hawk with harsh “TUT!” calls.  It took those robins nearly two minutes to resume feeding nearby.

I was so excited about the whole story I just witnessed and took part in that I forgot my conference call. Upon my return, I saw that my colleagues were still all chatting away – apparently not even noticing my absence as I witnessed the near-death experience of a few of my neighbors.

Editor’s Note: Dan served as the science editor for the new book, What the Robin Knows: How Birds Reveal the Secrets of the Natural World. He also worked with Lang Elliot of NatureSound Studio to produce an audio companion to the book (go there to hear the “Seeee” alarm call of the robin!). The BirdLanguage.com team welcomes Dan as a contributor – keep a look out for more stories from him!

At the south of my sit spot, there is a picnic area and a dumpster, which has become a larder of sorts for certain animals. Picnicking increases during the summer time, and the appearance of extra food scraps synchronizes perfectly with the rearing of young mammals that use this dumpster larder system.

I have learned to appreciate both this area and chance it provides to observe the alarms caused by opportunistic critters.

One early morning, while pulling into the parking lot of my sit spot, I could see the dumpster lid open and trash strewn about.

Before turning off my vehicle, the calls of chickadees and titmice could be heard coming from inside the wood line, 30 yards west of the dumpster. The birds were giving their “dee-dee-dee”(listen to an example of the call from the What the Robin KnowsOnline Audio Library) and “jway” calls. I got out of my vehicle and went to investigate, knowing I had disturbed something feeding in the dumpster.

On the way over, I noticed robins along the edge of a man-made trail and in cover of the shrub layer. This was to my north and the alarm’s east. The titmice and chickadees started moving, and I could see they were looking down toward the ground as they went by an old deadfall. This created plenty of ground cover and obscured the view from the picnic area. While I was watching the movement of alarm, a male cardinal flew in and began a volley of chips which instigated his mate to join.

The slow moving alarm shape, which in bird language parlance we call a  “parabolic” (since it looks like an umbrella of birds positioned over a stationary or moving threat), was about five to six feet off the ground. The umbrella shape was clearly evident from the position of the birds and the vocalizations of different species.

This type of combined effort on the part of multiple alarming bird species also shows how these different species listen to each other, especially with regard to locating dangerous nest robbers.

When the cardinals joined in, the robin on the trail stopped his feeding and flew up toward a branch looking in the direction of the alarm. The robin kept hopping onto higher branches until he arrived in a low sentinel position at which time he gave a “tut-tut-tut”.

Walking down the trail to where the robin was, I stood right underneath him. He looked down at me and then back toward the parabolic, which the cardinals and titmice had created. The chickadees had flown north, seemingly interested in something else. The slow moving parabolic lasted more than 20 minutes; showing how drawn out some of these alarms can be, and testing the belief and patience of the observer.

I watched the robin follow the alarm while he was preening himself. The other robins fed their way south into the picnic area as the alarm moved across the trail north of me, though still heading to the east.

Standing beneath the sentinel robin, I kept an eye on some openings that might give me a view of the alarmist. Locating an animal trail that the cardinals and titmice seemed to follow, I visually continued their line of travel to a standing dead tree. This particular tree had multiple openings and would make a prime den site. The cardinals’ chipping suddenly stopped and they flew west toward a succession area!

Within a few seconds the raccoon headed directly toward the denning tree, climbing up into one of the holes and disappeared.

In a recent Wall Street Journal review of Jon Young’s book, What the Robin Knows, reviewer Jonathan Rosen touched on an interesting question:

How can one really learn to distinguish between the approach of a cat or a dog simply through reading the language of the birds? Is this kind of skill possible to achieve?

This article explores this question from my own perspective as a tracker and observer of nature. Also included below is a video interview, in which I ask Jon Young to share his observations about this question.

We want to hear about your experiences with bird language, so be sure to use the comment form below to post your own stories and observations about the bird language surrounding cats, dogs, and their wild counterparts.

Interview with Jon Young on Cat & Dog Bird Language:

In my own observations of nature over the years, I’ve kept both an eye and an ear out for opportune moments to learn about the voices of the birds. I’ve noticed that an animal’s typical behavior andhunting strategy both play into avian responses.

Of Stealth and Shadow. . .

Cats are stealthy ambush hunters that move slowly and as invisibly as possible during a hunt, spending much of their time setting up a good ambush position. When the moment is right, the strike is quick and efficient.

A cat may linger in one spot for a long time waiting for the moment to strike. Bobcats, for instance, leave sphinx-like body impressions in the snow where they have been sitting in wait for a rabbit or hare.

The alarms generated by a sneaking cat or by an agitated, cautious cat tend to be very static, moving slowly or not at all if the cat remains hunkered down. The birds tend to create a parabolic shape, perched out of reach above the cat (see the video interview with Jon for an animation of this shape). Often, multiple types of bird species from the neighborhood will join in on the mobbing action.

Cats do sometimes move faster, though, so we are really mostly talking about the tendencies of hunting or agitated, sneaking cats in relation to bird alarms, which is the feline action most likely to elicit a strong bird response.

Many types of cats, such as bobcats and pumas, use a faster overstep walk to cover ground between hunting areas, and often display a slinking trot for short periods if forced to shift positions in the open.

A gallop pattern may be used during extreme hunting maneuvers, or if being chased. In general, though, the cats have a slow, measured demeanor about them. Remember this tendency while reading the bird language for clues to an animal’s presence.

The Runners-Up

What about the canines? We can’t forget man’s best friend. I’ve often seen cooped-up house dogs run out the door with full steam and scare up a frenzy of birds. In it’s most explosive form, this short but energetic burst may cause a bird plow, with birds shooting up and away from the dog as if they were struck by a cue-ball.

Usually, though, the alarm is more localized – such as a rambunctious  house dog causing a song sparrow to hook, flying off the ground to perch perhaps five feet up in a raspberry tangle, uttering a short alarm note.

Once I sat quietly by the edge of a trail, sipping coffee and enjoying the morning bird songs. Suddenly,  a covey of quail began making their staccato “pit-it-it” alarms in the distance (hear more sounds in the What the Robin Knows Audio Library). Whatever was disturbing them passed quickly, for they soon ceased their alarms.

A few seconds later, an American robin that had been feeding on the ground hooked up next to me, flying about five feet up onto the branch of a nearby apple tree. The robin uttered a sharp “tut-tut!” call. Moments later, a gray fox trotted along the trail, passing within a few feet of me as he continued on his rounds. This incident was instructive, because in looking at it, we see some patterns common to canines in regard to bird language:
The fox was trotting, which is a typical gait used to cover ground by many canines. It is a faster gait than a walk, and an efficient way to travel for their body type. A trotting canine such as this gray fox tends to push up a sequence of alarms, as the canine quickly moves from one bird’s territory to another’s. This creates a “popcorn” effect of birds hooking up, getting out of the way and uttering a short call or series of calls which diminish after the animal passes through.

Since canines spend a vast majority of their time patrolling and looking (or smelling) for opportunities, they tend to cover a lot of ground each day. Therefore, the alarm shape most often elicited by their presence (when traveling in a trot) tends to be this popcorn effect, which is much faster moving and less “intense” sounding than the static alarms caused by a hunting or agitated cat.
To wax poetic, a trotting coyote or fox is like a flowing wave moving across the landscape, while a perched or sneaking cat is like a rock stuck in the sand, or molasses pouring out of a jar. They each have a very different “feeling” of intensity in their general presences and the alarms they elicit.

That said, foxes and other canines do slow down when they stop to investigate or are setting up to pounce upon their prey. A stationary gray fox getting into a bird nest will present a very different bird language scenario than a trotting, traveling fox. So, we are talking here about general tendencies and characteristic patterns for each kind of animal. With the sophistication available currently with computer audio analysis, it would be very interesting to see just how refined a pattern it is possible to detect for recognizing a species through bird alarms.

Have you observed any bird language related to canines or felines? Be sure to post your comments below!

Some parting thoughts. . .

Bird language is very context dependent, so it always helps to get a sense of the bigger ecological setting and the intent that the animal’s behavior is clueing you (and the birds) into.

Think about it – if you were a bird, say a parent robin, would you be more concerned about the well-fed cat lounging in the open in the back yard, or the hungry-looking cat slinking toward you in the shadows? And, imagine that you can’t quite see the cat, but you know something is in there. . . because the towhees and sparrows that frequent the thicket floor are  are now perched higher up, and are looking down into the shadows and alarming with agitation (of course, who knows what’s really going on the robin’s inner world. . . but for me, at least, this helps gives perspective to the scenario).

Certainly the cat in the open would demand some respect and enough distance to stay out of harm’s way, and perhaps even elicit a mild alarm note on first appearance, but once the element of surprise is gone, I’ve often noticed that a relaxed, lounging house cat merits little bird response beyond a “buffer zone” of safety.

The moment of surprise is what gives the ambush predator enough advantage to win the game. The stealthy predator that could appear at any moment from the shadows is the most to be feared. It’s the robin that is keeping an eye on the shadows, and an ear to the sparrows in the thicket, that lives the longest.

Research about the impact of nature connection on people’s health and wellbeing is pointing directly at something we have observed through our work over the past 30 years.

What’s really exciting is that it’s now becoming clear that bird language can really help move people into true nature connection. My latest book, What the Robin Knows: How Birds Reveal the Secrets of the Natural World,  has helped open doors to new audiences, and to affirm that people from these new audiences are connecting to nature through bird language.

This review by Jonathan Rosen from The Wall Street Journal helps to bring-out implications for nature connection and families through existing bird enthusiasts. It’s very exciting.

“What makes the approach of What the Robin Knows so refreshing is that it borrows back into bird-watching something the practice often surrenders to birders, those single-minded stalkers who identify and then abandon individual birds with promiscuous fury. My daughter has little interest in my fits of avian acquisitiveness, but sitting quietly in the woods, taking in the whole system as a sort of babbling classroom whose sounds and silences all communicate something important, she was mesmerized—and so was I. This, more than anything else, is what bird-watching ought to mean.“

-Jonathan Rosen, author of Bird Sense, for The Wall Street Journal

Think about Jonathan’s “mesmerized” daughter in this. What causes this mesmerized response? What I have heard now again and again is that bird language makes sense in a deeper kind of way. People can relate to bird language in a deeply human and truly ancient way, and these are not necessarily people who are really interested in “birding” like I am, or review author Jonathan Rosen is. However, I don’t see bird language as necessarily separate from birding; in fact, I see bird language as an essential and helpful component of bird watching. That said, it is clear that folks I know who are not interested in birding, are interested in bird language. And, I am discovering, it can work the other way too!

The more important questions for me, though, are:

“What is compelling an almost instinctive response in people discovering bird language and its connective practice?”

And,
“How can we benefit from these patterns, and help others as well?”

In my earlier days of training and mentoring naturalists, there was a profusion of guide books that answered the question “who?” These are identification guides for wildlife and plants. There are many “identification guides” it seems for most everything that moves and crawl, and even thinks like rocks, stars and weather. Then, along came a new genre of guidebooks that reflected a ‘deepening’ inquiry. These are books that talk about “what” animals and birds are doing. The field guides to bird behavior emerged. As the birding world deepens further, it seems that bird language can take off on the “what” birds are doing and go into the “why” and “how” a bit more.

Bird language is helping to fill in the story in our field guide literature a bit more. It’s not new understanding; bird language is ancient and is being retold in a new language of science.

The other thing that bird language is providing is an experience of feedback to us as participants in the birds’ experience—not just our own. In other words, our behavior impacts their behavior. With an understanding of how we can alter our behavior, and thereby their behavior, we gain something yet deeper. This is part of what we mean by “deep bird language”.

Though the term “deep bird language” was coined during the writing of What the Robin Knows, reflection on implications of the term “deep” changed the way I see what I do and what our greater 8 Shields movement offers. When applied to what our movement has been doing for thirty years, the word basically brands us our very approach to nature connection. It was from the naming of the concept of deep bird language that I realized my life’s work is about deep nature connection.

The ‘success’ of deep nature connection, and its subset deep bird language, is measured and defined by certain attributes. These attributes indicate ‘arrival at the station’ called “deep” along the path as a continuum from perceived and experienced disconnection to the place where connection is self-evident and drives changes in values and behaviors (towards sustainability). If you read my other article entitled “What is Deep Nature Connection?” in this same newsletter, you will get more of a sense of this much larger topic. For this article, I want to stay focused on bird language as a practice and its impact on us, and its influence on our journey towards emergent deep nature connection attributes.

When the core routines of learning bird language are practiced, there are resultant benefits. These are linked to the attributes of deep nature connection, and are brought on through regular immersion in practices of attentiveness, silence, listening, sharing learning through storytelling and sitting quietly in the same area day after day, season after season. Over time, through these and other related practices constituting the study and experience of bird language, these are some of the benefits could emerge:

1) The attentive practices of bird language help people sense and awakening an ancient, instinctive potential to pay attention at a much more profound level; this attentiveness brings about benefits from quieting the mind, developing a sense of inner calm and peace, awakening curiosity and increasing enjoyment of the out-of-doors experience

2) Through developing connections with birds, people report that they are happier and more engaged with our surroundings

3) The vitality with which birds respond to bird language is inspiring; people report that they are influenced in a positive way by the “modeling” the quickness of birds provides

4) The deep-listening skills and multi-dimensional attentiveness to the language of birds helps people to become better listeners and more attentive to others as friends, parents, mentors and other facilitators of human interaction and support

5) Developing further experience and attentiveness to the feedback from birds and wildlife about a person’s approach and movement in the birds’ habitat, causes people to grow a greater sense of respect, empathy and a sense of connection to birds (and other wildlife); this in turn, will bring people closer to wildlife and helps people feel that they have become a part of nature and not an “intruder” into nature

6) Developing understanding of interactions between birds, wildlife and their habitats expands understanding of ecology and inspires people to become more helpful to their human and natural neighbors with a more conscientious and sustainable orientation

7) Over time, bird language practices will foster deeper appreciation and compassion for all living things and an awakened sense of a gratitude for the opportunity to be alive; people report that this really opens their heart and sense of love for their families and others in their lives, humanity in general and themselves

There are many ways you can enjoy learning and experiencing bird language in your own back yard from products and offerings from OWLink Media and 8 Shields Institute in collaboration with many fine projects around the world!

Free On-line Media: Check out out free e-course in bird languageoffered through birdlanguage.com

Books: You can read my newest book What the Robin Knows,  through a variety of other written resources such as Coyote’s Guide to Connecting with Nature which shares how to mentor others effectively in bird language, to Animal Tracking Basics that can help you link bird language with tracking.

Audio Media: Advanced Bird Language which offers stories I am telling to a live audience from my field experiences and musing on the implications of bird language.

DVD Media: Bird Language with Jon Young is a video media course teaching both bird language basics, and how to work with groups in training settings. This video will help you start a bird language group in your town!

Weeklong Bird Language Course: Bird Week is an absolutely life-changing immersion into the study of bird language in a group experience. This is a phenomenal and very efficient training experience for anyone who wishes to bring bird language to others! This is happening in the Bay area in California this April.

An Expedition with Bird Language Experts & Native Trackers in the Kalahari: The Origins Project is offering an amazing opportunity to join me and Science Editor for What the Robin Knows Dan Gardoqui, as well as documentary film producer and expert tracker and naturalist Craig Foster, project leader Nicole Apelian and Naro Bushman trackers in their own land—as well as trip through the Okavango Delta with expert birder and tracker Brian Gibson. This will be an incredible and once-in-a-lifetime opportunity this coming March.