Extinctions happen slowly, often right in front of our eyes. Currently, I’m watching the disappearance of the eastern meadowlark.
Twenty years ago, I could find this grassland bird in a number of places in Bangor. They were next to the Penjajawoc Marsh opposite the Bangor Mall until about 15 years ago. A decade ago, I could find them behind Dorothea Dix in what is now Saxl Park. Five years ago, I could locate one on the Chase Road in Bangor. I know of only one other pair within Bangor city limits. Perhaps they will soon be gone forever. I remember seeing them in the field opposite the Logging Museum in Patten. They were next to the marsh at Moosehorn National Wildlife Refuge in Baring. They were in a farm field in Abbot. It has now been several years since I’ve seen them in any of those places.
Truthfully, the eastern meadowlark is far from actual extinction. It breeds widely across the United States, reaching even into parts of Arizona and New Mexico. In warmer states, it is nonmigratory. The meadowlark is not a lark. It is a member of the icterid family, related to orioles, blackbirds and cowbirds. Its flutelike song has echoed over pastures and hayfields for generations. Among its quirks, males typically have two mates, sometimes three. Unfortunately, like many grassland birds, its population is in sharp decline.
Population changes happen naturally over time but it’s pretty clear that grassland birds are declining because of human influence. Habitat loss is the big culprit as agricultural fields revert to forest or yield to subdivisions. Within New England and New York, at least nine species of grassland birds are now recognized as regionally threatened or endangered. Before wagging the finger of blame at ourselves, it’s important to remember that human influence created all that grassland habitat in the first place. The eastern meadowlark may be widespread precisely because of America’s celebrated farming heritage.
Another human change that affects grassland birds is that we now hay much earlier as growers try to squeeze multiple crops out of a season. I can’t fault the practice. Grass is a commercial crop no different than corn. It’s hard enough for farmers to make a living, and these fields wouldn’t exist at all except for farms and hay. Nonetheless, when a field is mowed before August, nests in that field inevitably fail and an entire season of reproduction is lost.
Even where fields and grasslands still exist, their availability as breeding habitat diminishes as the parcels get smaller and more fragmented. Some grassland birds need more room than others. Upland sandpipers require very large tracts of open space. Eastern meadowlarks require almost as much. Bobolinks can tolerate smaller fields and savannah sparrows can use grassy tracts as small as the rough along the edges of golf courses. I always enjoy the singing of savannah sparrows as I hunt for my lost ball at the tenth hole at Bangor Muni.
Our track record with grassland species isn’t good. The heath hen went extinct in 1932. Before the American Revolution, this eastern subspecies of the prairie chicken was so common from southern Massachusetts through Virginia that household servants complained when they were fed them too often. They were abundant and easy to hunt. By 1791, one of the first attempts to save a bird from extinction occurred in the New York state legislature when a bill to limit hunting the heath hen was passed. It proved unenforceable. Within one human lifetime, they were all gone from the mainland. Only a few remained on Martha’s Vineyard and despite heroic efforts to save them, they also passed into history.
The Eskimo curlew was once one of the most abundant grassland migrants in North America. Beginning in the 1870s, it took only 20 years of overhunting and habitat conversion to tip the bird towards extinction. The last Eskimo curlew seen in Maine was on a dinner plate in Aroostook County.
Change is inevitable. But it’s not a question of whether declining species can adapt to us; it’s whether we can adapt to each other. We have opportunities to preserve habitat for the eastern meadowlark without asking farmers to sacrifice. There are many tracts of grassland left on public lands in Maine and preserved in land trusts. For fields that are not essential for hay, it is a simple enough matter to mow after nesting. Perhaps the meadowlarks will return to Saxl Park. The bobolinks and meadowlarks thank you.
Bob Duchesne serves in the Maine Legislature, is president of the Penobscot Valley Chapter of Maine Audubon, created the Maine Birding Trail and is the author of the trail guidebook of the same name. He can be reached at duchesne@midmaine.com.
Can’t give a valid opinion about Meadowlarks in the Bangor area since I’m an “immigrant” and don’t live near grasslands. It would be a shame if their numbers would decrease. Just got back from a trip out West, Midwest, prairies, high plains, and it was refreshing to see and hear Meadowlarks (and Bobolinks) again. I grew up in a Midwest city but across the street from grasslands and I’d wake upon a summer morning to Meadowlarks singing.
Something I recently wrote. Where are the songbirds? – When I was a young boy – that’s quite some time ago – I remember seeing hundreds of songbirds each and every day during the summer within a mile of my home at the East Livermore Campgrounds. Barn swallows were swooping in and out of every barn in my neighborhood and the roofs andrafters of the barns had dozens and dozens of nests bursting at the seams with open-mouthed youngsters eager to make their first solo flight. The telephone wires were littered with hundreds of birds of several varieties wherever you went. In the evening the sky was filled with diving nighthawks and I do not remember an evening when I didn’t hear at least a dozen whippoorwills singing their beautiful songs. Our lawns and driveways were adorned with several species of sparrows and our pastures were embellished with the beautiful goldfinches fluttering from thistle plant to burdock bush. If I looked out across the marshes or along the shores of slow moving streams, there were dozens and dozens of “blackies” fluttering from place to place catching bush hugging bugs and flying insects to feed their young. There wasn’t a day that I didn’t hear and see woodpeckers engaged in their rat a tat, tat on a dead tree or a portion thereof. Even though bluebirds were a rare species in the East, I even had a few of them living in the special birdhouses I built for them to nest in. During my youthful years, I was a bird watcher and I think I knew nearly all of the species songbirds that resided in Maine. And here I am fifty and more years later, with excellent eyesight and looking at the same places and what do I see – all the same trees, wires, lawns, sky and other environments – almost no song birds. Yes, we still seem to have an abundance of robins and crows but where have the songbirds gone? To prove my point to myself, I recently took a circuitous forty-mile ride to Mount Vernon, Vienna and back home. As I drove along slowly, I scrutinized lawns, driveways, wires, trees, bogs and swamps, shorelines and the sky and nary a songbird did I see. And if you think I am lying, I am willing to take a lie detector test. What I did see was many crows, two flocks of geese in a field and a bunch of young turkeys standing in the road. I even took a ride to downtown Augusta specifically to see if there were any pigeons like there were in my youth. You guessed it. Not a single pigeon did I see. What on earth has happened to our songbirds? That is the question I have at the moment and thus far I have not found an answer nor anyone I’ve talked with who seemed to give a fig when I broached this question. It’s even been years since I’ve heard the hoot of an owl or the song of a lark.
I consider myself an avid birder and I must say the Meadowlark is high on my list of birds that I wish to view. I live in the Bangor area and this article is very disheartening. While grassland birds may be on the decline, I’ve noticed that some songbirds seem to be thriving, such as cardinals. I have only been birding for a few years, but I don’t recall seeing cardinals nearly as regular as I do now. Is there a boom in this population or is it because I wasn’t paying close enough attention before?
Funny you should mention it. I’ve already written a column on cardinals, though it won’t run for awhile. There are several species that are increasing in population. Not surprisingly, they are species that adapt well to humans…especially bird feeders. They include Northern Cardinal, Tufted Titmouse, and Red-bellied Woodpecker. The cardinal population is not only growing locally, it is spreading out. I now get them regularly up the coast to at least Machias. And here’s another tidbit: the Cooper’s Hawk is increasing. Twenty years ago, you’d have a hard time finding one. Now, their numbers are increasing because…wait for it…they are feeding on birds that feed at feeders.
I guess it is bittersweet to see some species fade while others thrive. Thank you for your insight and passion on this topic Mr. Duchesne. I very much look forward to your future columns. Keep up the great work and the awareness!
Thank you for not pointing sole blame on farmers, which is too often done by conservationists… Many of whom seem to live in a nice little house plopped on what was once a meadow.
As with everything, and as you popint out, there are many factors at play. Finger pointing doesn’t help build consensus and solve problems.
Thank you for an interesting read!
Thanks. If anyone is going to blame farmers, they must also credit farmers. They created all that habitat in the first place. Ultimately, there are always human impacts as we continue to sprawl. But no matter what happens on farms, the impacts to wildlife are fewer than the impacts caused by subdivisions. The impact caused by early mowing of grasslands that are not otherwise in hay production is the big culprit that can be corrected easily with just a little more awareness.