Category Archives: Vocalizations

A Sound That Reminds Me of Home

Last March while birding along Panama’s Pipeline Road we heard a sound that reminded me of home. 

The bird was loud and its sound was tropical — not a Pennsylvania bird — but something about it seemed familiar.

Here’s what we heard:

Rufous piha (audio from Xeno Canto XC107022)

Our guide identified it as the rufous piha (Lipaugus unirufus) a member of the Cotinga family.

So why was his song familiar?  

I used to hear a similar sound in the Wetlands Room at the National Aviary. The sound is gone now — the bird passed away — but for many years his voice defined that room.

Screaming piha (audio from Xeno Canto, XC444908)

The screaming piha (Lipaugus vociferans) is a member of the Cotinga family native to the Amazon. The bird looks boring but his voice is not.

Screaming piha (photo by Dick Daniels via Wikimedia Commons)

It’s too bad he’s no longer with us at the National Aviary.  His voice from the Amazon reminds me of Pittsburgh.

(photo of rufous piha by Amy E. McAndrews on Flickr, Creative Commons license; photo of screaming piha from Wikimedia Commons; audio from Xeno Canto. Click on the captions to see the originals.)

Raven Gets Creative

Crows are common in the city but ravens are rare so I was surprised to hear a raven this week in Schenley Park.  It called and circled overhead waiting for its companion to arrive. “Brrrock! Brrrock!”  When the second raven caught up they flew away together.

I see ravens in town about twice a year but I only hear them make the Brrrock call.  If I lived where common ravens (Corvus corax) are common, I’d hear their wide variety of sounds.

This video from Anchorage, Alaska gives you an idea of the ravens’ vocal range.  He starts with Brrrock.   Then he gets creative.

(video by dougbrown47 on YouTube)

The Lookout Bird

Dusky-throated antshrike at banding station (photo courtesy of Cameron Rutt)

When you’re vulnerable to predators it pays to stick together and have a good lookout to warn you of danger.

The dusky-throated antshrike (Thamnomanes ardesiacus) doesn’t look important but he’s quick to notice the presence of hawks and falcons and has a distinctive alarm call that wakes up the forest to impending danger.  It turns out that he’s key to the foraging location and cohesion of his mixed species flocks in the Amazon.

Early this year, a study by San Francisco State University temporarily removed dusky-throated antshrikes from their mixed species flocks in Peru. They discovered that within hours the flocks left their semi-open mid-story locations for denser parts of the forest.  Often the flocks without an antshrike completely dissolved.

What does the alarm call sound like?  Is it loud? Does it grab your attention? You bet!  Here’s the sound of a worried dusky-throated antshrike:

His role in the flock works so well that the same mix of species sticks together for generations. As San Francisco State Professor Vance Vredenburg remarked, “You come back to the same habitat after 20 years, and the same flocks are using the same areas of the forest.”

Read more about the study here in Science Daily.

p.s. When the antshrike is not afraid he sings this buzzy, rising song. (audio by Peter Boesman at Xeno Canto #271766)

Dusky-throated antshrike song (Xeno Canto 271766)

(media credits: photo of dusky-throated antshrike by Cameron Rutt, audio alarm call from Macaulay Library, audio song from Xeno Canto; click on the captions to see the originals)

What Is This Chicken Saying?

If we want to understand what birds are saying the easiest way to learn is from the birds that live with us.

Sue Cross at The Holistic Hen observes her free range chickens closely to find out what they’re saying.  Sometimes a message isn’t clear at first.  

This hen flew up to touch the door repeatedly.  Watch the video to find out why.

Read more about chicken behavior and organic forest farming at The Holistic Hen.

(video from The Holistic Hen on YouTube)

Purple Martins Sing

Purple martin male, singing near his nest, Chicago (photo from Wikimedia Commons)
Purple martin male, singing near his nest, Chicago (photo from Wikimedia Commons)

We don’t think of swallows as songbirds but indeed they do sing.  Our largest swallow, the purple martin (Progne subis), has a unique sound that carries far.  With practice, you can recognize their voices even when you can’t see them.

Purple martins nest communally so the best place to learn their song is near a purple martin colony.

As you approach you’ll hear them singing as they fly, a liquid gurgling warble with throaty chirps.  (This in-flight recording, Xeno Canto XC13689 by Chris Parrish, includes other bird songs in the background.)


In early summer near their nests, you’ll hear songs, creaky rattles and the sound of begging juveniles. (Purple martins vocalizing near their nest, including begging calls of young, from Xeno Canto XC139568 by Russ Wigh)


The throaty, gurgling chirps are unique to purple martins.  When you hear it overhead, look for a nearby colony and go see the swallows sing.

For more sound samples visit the purple martin sound page at All About Birds.


(photo from Wikimedia Commons; click on the image to see the original.  Audio from Xeno Canto; click the links for the original recording pages)

The Sound of a Water Drop

water drop (photo from Wikimedia Commons)
A water drop (photo from Wikimedia Commons)

A water drop sounds like this  …

… but that noise was made by a bird. (named at the end of the recording: XC148304 by Gary Stiles.)

It’s my favorite bird sound from Panama, made by a black-bellied wren (Pheugopedius fasciatoventris).

In his preferred habitat the wren is hard to see.  Mostly black and brown, his white throat looks like a splash of sunlight from below.

Black-bellied wren, Panama (photo by Fransceso Veronesi from Wikimedia Commons)
Black-bellied wren, Panama (photo by Fransceso Veronesi from Wikimedia Commons)

But he’s easy to hear. When he really gets going he doesn’t sound like a water drop at all.  This long melodious song (xeno-canto XC15653) was recorded by Don Jones on Semaphore Hill Road, the road to Canopy Tower.


The “water drop” is just a tiny snatch of song.


(photos from Wikimedia Commons; click on the images to see the originals. recordings downloaded from Xeno Canto; links provided to the originals)

Nothing Can Go Wrong

What happens when you put a very smart parrot in the room with a voice-activated virtual assistant?

The owners of an African grey parrot named Petra also own an Amazon Echo, the tall black cylinder that activates a blue light when it hears the word “Alexa.”  Say “Alexa” and the computer carries out your command.

Here are three short clips of Petra with Alexa.  Above, “All lights on.”

“Tell me a fact” …

… and “lights off.”


What will happen next?    Um … Nothing can go wrong.


See more of Petra and Alexa on the PetraGrey YouTube channel.    Read more about Alexa here.

(videos from the PetraGrey YouTube channel)

Lonesome Doves

Mourning dove cooing (screenshot from YouTube video by jkontrad)
Mourning dove cooing (screenshot from YouTube video by jkontrad)

What is that hooting?  Is it an owl calling in the middle of the day?

In the spring, male mourning doves (Zenaida macroura) perch high, puff their throats and make the deepest loudest sound possible for a bird so small.   The first rising note is lost in the distance, but the last two or three low notes carry far.

Last week at Moraine State Park I was momentarily transfixed when I heard “Hoooo Hoooo” across the valley.   When I paused to listen I realized that the cadence didn’t match any local owl. Not the great horned owl.  Not the barred owl.  I heard only two notes but they were spaced like the mourning dove’s.

Listen as a mourning dove sings one rising note, then 3 or 2 low notes.  Imagine you can hear only the last two notes.  (Xeno-canto recording XC153652 by Paul Marvin at Moosehead NWR, Maine)


Now compare it to these two owls:

GREAT HORNED OWL recording by Ted Floyd, Boulder, CO at Xeno-canto XC344952

BARRED OWL recording by Tim Spahr, Ithaca, NY at Xeno-canto XC25239


Here’s a mourning dove trying to attract a mate (YouTube video by jkontrab).


Don’t be fooled when you hear this Hoooo-ing sound.  It’s just a lonesome dove.


(screenshot from the YouTube video by jkontrab, audio from Xeno Canto; see the captions for media sources)

The Starling’s Wiry Song

Male European Starlng singing, Bristol, UK (photo from Wikimedia Commons)
Male European Starlng singing, Bristol, UK (photo from Wikimedia Commons)

When you hear a wiry bird sound in the city, chances are it’s a male European starling (Sturnus vulgaris) singing to claim territory and attract a mate.

In the spring male starlings perch up high with a long view in all directions.  Then they lift their beaks, puff out their throat feathers and sing.  “Notice me!” they say.

But it’s not a pleasant song.  It reminds me of the sound made by fast-forwarding an audio tape. (That’s how old I am.)

Listen to this recording from Norway,  Xeno-Canto #XC383674 by Terje Kolaas.  That ticking (at 0:20) and whirring static is a bird!


When starlings drop their mechanical sounds they sometimes mimic other birds, though with a wiry edge.  Here’s a songster in Italy, Xeno-Canto #XC394233 by Marco Dragonetti.


When you hear sounds like these, look up and you’ll find a starling.


(photo from Wikimedia Commons; click on the image to see the original. Audio from Xeno Canto)

Singing In The Rain

Blue jay in the rain (photo by Christian Lanctot via Flickr, Creative Commons license)
Blue jay in the rain (photo by Christian Lanctot via Flickr, Creative Commons license)

On Thursday afternoon, a flock of blue jays called and sang in the rain outside my window.  They were so musical that I recorded them.

In the clip below you can hear rain falling and some harsh “jeer” calls, but notice the musical “tweedle” songs. Those are blue jays (Cyanocitta cristata) performing the pumphandle call as they bob on the perch.  These are faint; turn up your speakers.

Blue jays “tweedle”in the rain, 22 Feb 2018, the Pumphandle call:

This call sometimes means there’s a mild threat nearby, but it’s usually heard in the spring while they’re claiming mates and territory.

After a while, the flock changed its tune.  Listen for the faint “djeep djeep” in this clip.


Weather didn’t dampen the blue jays’ spirits.  They felt like singing in the rain.


Watch a video that explains the blue jays’ calls, here: The Complex Calls of Blue Jays by Lesley the Bird Nerd.

(photo by Christian Lanctot via Flickr Creative Commons license; audio recorded by Kate St. John)

p.s. As of yesterday morning, February 24, I’ve heard the first robins singing in the dark.