Pishing is the art of making weird noises to attract birds. Many different noises fall under the category of pishing. There are squeaks, and seeps, and sip-sip-sips. Owl imitations are a form of pishing. But the most effective sound for attracting birds seems to be a repeated pish-pish-pish, hence the name.
Try it. Put your lips together and say pish, repeating it rapidly at about the same rate a chickadee says chick-a-dee-dee-dee-dee. That, in fact, is why the technique probably works. The pishing sound resembles the scold notes used by chickadees and titmice to call attention to a potential threat. It may be just a casual warning to other birds, or a neighborhood summons to help mob a predator.
These sounds seem to be universally understood by many birds, and even some mammals and amphibians, wherever chickadees live in North America. Other birds make noises, too, which leads birders to try various imitations of these scolds. Experienced birders have their own favorite pishing techniques. I usually try the pish-pish-pish of a chickadee, followed by a rising peeish-peeish of a tufted titmouse, finishing with a few chit-chit-chits to hook the birds and reel them in. I have one squeaky friend who loudly kisses the back of her hand as if she were sucking venom from a snakebite.
If you haven’t tried it, now is a perfect time. Pishing should be used with care and discretion. Disturbing birds during breeding season can risk nest predation. Fortunately, most of our songbirds are basking in the tropics right now, and our winter residents are the very same birds that are making most of those noises naturally. Chickadees, titmice, kinglets, and finches are gathered in mixed foraging flocks, and their numbers can lead these groups to feel a little bolder when investigating strange pishes.
Indeed, this column was inspired by recent mega-flocks of pine siskins. These diminutive finches are currently roaming the Maine forest. It’s a spectacle. I’ve been up in the North Maine Woods several times in recent weeks, and there seem to be regiments of siskins swarming the treetops. A few pishes from me, and they will zoom right in. Goldfinches do it, too. Much of the year, they care little about my insanity. But at this time of year, emboldened by their numbers, they just swoop in curiously.
As usual, in matters concerning human-wildlife interaction, different folks hold different opinions regarding what’s ethical and what’s not. I know birders who will pish up a storm the moment they detect the presence of a reluctant bird. That’s rather annoying. I know birders who find any human disturbance to be reprehensible, and they would never try to trick a bird. In the company of enthusiastic pishers, they must feel like the vegan at Thanksgiving dinner.
Me? I’m always watching behavior. You can usually tell the difference between curiosity and agitation. A curious bird may sidle over, but it won’t stop foraging. Any bird that is actively looking for lunch is not too concerned about becoming lunch. However, if a bird is wiping its bill against a branch, or wiggling its wings in an aggressive fashion, it’s perturbed. Even though golden-crowned kinglets are our tiniest winter residents, they can give you quite a scornful look.
There is also a wide range of bird reactions to pishing, and it varies by species. The majority of warblers will investigate an intruder, but some could care less. I can pish until my shirt is wet with drool, and the magnolia warbler will always ignore me. Northern forest warblers — such as Cape May, Tennessee, bay-breasted, and mourning — mostly don’t care. Black-and-white warblers ignore my pishing until Memorial Day. When they first arrive in spring, they’re hungry, they don’t have a mate, they don’t have a territory, and they have nothing to protect. But after Memorial Day, they’re on top of me like Robert Mueller investigating collusion.
Sparrows care. Thrushes don’t. Nuthatches care. Creepers don’t. Blue jays care a little. Orioles, tanagers, and grosbeaks care very little.
Some, I don’t understand. Blue-headed vireos often react, red-eyed vireos seldom do, and warbling vireos are completely uninterested. Yet they’re all closely related. Maybe it has something to do with where they winter. There are no chickadees or tit species in the tropics, and pishing generally doesn’t work there. Blue-headed vireos winter in the U.S.; the others don’t. Maybe they’re just more attuned to chickadees. OK, now I’m just guessing …
Anyway, happy holidays, and may all your Christmas pishes come true.
Bob Duchesne serves as vice president of Maine Audubon’s Penobscot Valley Chapter. He developed the Maine Birding Trail, with information at mainebirdingtrail.com. He can be reached at duchesne@midmaine.com.