Ked-winged blackbird 



I witnessed an April shower of male redwings today. 

 Flaming red and orange patches on polished black wings 

 flashed in the sky. Ke-kon-ker-ee, they fluted. Ke-kon- 

 ker-ee, they called as they arrived in mass formation. 



Soon after their arrival they soared to my meadow to 

 await the coming of the female redwings. 



In a few days these plain ladies, modestly dressed in 

 dotted brown, will terminate their northward journey. 

 Then immediately the redwing drama will get under way. 

 Mates will be selected, nests built, eggs laid. Young red- 

 wings will hatch, and they'll be tenderly cared for by their 

 parents. 



Redwing families always seem to be on friendly terms 

 with one another, and their nests are frequently located 

 within a few yards of each other, with perhaps a dozen 

 redwing nests in a fifty-foot square. As I walk about my 

 grounds I look for them in tussocks of grass or in bunches 

 of tall weeds or in low bush. And I find them easily, for 

 the male bird, in guarding his nest, unwittingly reveals its 

 location by flying directly above it in circles. As I draw 

 near, both parent birds hover about my head, uttering 

 sharp notes of alarm. 



Shaped out of coarse grasses and weed stems, and lined 

 with finer grass, the nest seems bulky, but the three to six 

 eggs in it of light blue, blotched and streaked with pur- 

 plish brown improve its appearance. Young redwings in 

 the nest are a noisy crew, chirping incessantly for some- 

 thing to eat preferably cutworms, grubs or grasshoppers. 



