Dakota Beacon

Labor Day traditionally spells the end of summer and the start of school. Seasons change not by calendar alone, and summer’s end is marked by bird behavior as well.

Politics and policy will always nip at our heals, but other things are more enduring -- and endearing. For example, the peaceful observation of the birds spells a welcome respite to the acrimony around us. The birds are hearty, resilient and not bothered by the “sophistication” of the world that too often plagues mankind. Theirs, however, is the simple life albeit a struggle for survival.

With autumn upon us and school already in session, it’s time for the great migration to commence and birds to head south. Already, the ducks and geese are beginning to congregate. Even the grackles are on the move south and they are not alone.

I encountered a species of bird for the first time recently which was new to me. I had never seen an ovenbird until the other day even though they’re not uncommon in our area. Unfortunately, the little fellow won’t be making the flight south. He had recently expired. As macabre as it sounds, he was in very good shape and evidently had not departed this world too long before I discovered him. At first I did not recognized the markings and had to check them against some of my resource material.

The ovenbird is a member of the warbler family but often acts like a thrush. This ground-walking species characteristically separates itself from all other warblers by its preference for the ground. He’s somewhat small in size, about five inches long, with a distinctive olive back and wings, white underparts and heavy black streaks on the breast. It’s crown has a broad burnt-orange stripe bordered on each side with a dark brown or black stripe.

The ovenbird is common enough. He’s just not common at my feeders which explains why I haven’t seen him. The little guy is an insectivore. Ovenbirds feed on spiders and insects either caught in flight or on the ground. Typically ovenbirds do not forage in live vegetation, but prefer to scrounge around in twigs and leaf litter beneath the trees. In fact, they spend at least as much time on the ground as they do in the air.

Ovenbirds are more often heard than seen. Although my bird had already assumed room temperature, happily I found him in the autumn just in time to coincide with the start of school. His song is a ringing call which increases in volume sounding like tea-cher, TEA-cher, TEA-CHER. With my discovery occurring in the autumn, this coincidence has to be a fitting tribute to the start of the new school year.

The best is held ‘til last. The ovenbird gets its name from the shape of the domed nest resembling an old fashion European baking oven. The domed nest is made principally from woven grass and twigs cemented with clay and containing a side entrance. Nests are built on the ground in deciduous wooded areas. Although the nest is unique, nevertheless it is a target for parasitism by cowbirds.

This relatively tame little critter is a long-range migrater. He spends the winter in northern South America, Central America and the West Indies. However, he breeds in the eastern and north central areas of North America. Although not predominantly a Transatlantic bird, confirmed sightings of the ovenbird in recent years have occurred in Norway, Great Britain and Ireland.

Rustling through my research on the ovenbird, I discovered that poet laureate Robert Frost paid homage to the little guy a poem in 1916 and titled it simply “The Oven Bird” in his collection “Mountain Interval.” Of all the many birds he could have chosen for his poem, the ovenbird was honored by his choice.

Dennis M. Patrick can be contacted at P. O. Box 337, Stanley, ND 58784 or (JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address).

The Oven Bird

THERE is a singer everyone has heard,

Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird,

Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again.

He says that leaves are old and that for flowers

Mid-summer is to spring as one to ten.

He says the early petal-fall is past

When pear and cherry bloom went down in showers

On sunny days a moment overcast;

And comes that other fall we name the fall.

He says the highway dust is over all.

The bird would cease and be as other birds

But that he knows in singing not to sing.

The question that he frames in all but words

Is what to make of a diminished thing.