This Long-Time Lack of Recognition Is Really for the Birds

I have received a communication, in the name of Julian Donahue, the moth man and ornithologist, that seems to vindicate my sighting in my back yard some years ago of a common grackle.

At the time I was bombarded by protests. No grackle had ever been seen on Mount Washington. In fact, no grackle had ever been seen in Southern California.

Far from being embarrassed, I stuck to my guns, pointing out that if indeed there were grackles in the South and on the East Coast, what was to keep one from flying on to Los Angeles. Birds do migrate.

A month or two later, when I thought the time was ripe, I wrote that I had seen another grackle. This time the Audubon Society made me an honorary member and invited me to their annual banquet, which I attended.

I did not, however, receive any congratulations from the likes of Donahue, moth man emeritus of the Natural History Museum and a birdman, incidentally. He studies anything that flies. He is among the most prestigious birdmen in the Southland, along with Henry Childs, the legendary birdman of Upland.

The letter I have in hand, a form letter I assume, announces that the Los Angeles County Breeding Bird Atlas is under way and says, “Your help is needed.”

“The goal is to produce a series of maps showing the breeding distribution of the birds of Los Angeles County. Julian Donahue has been charged with gathering data for the Mount Washington sector (essentially bounded by Eagle Rock Boulevard, Figueroa Street, San Fernando Road and York Boulevard.

“You can help! Some of the more uncommon or elusive species may be breeding or nesting in your own back yard. If so, please call Julian. He will also help you identify any unfamiliar or unusual birds you may have (particularly any grackles), which have not been observed on Mount Washington since they were originally, and reliably, reported by resident ornithologist Jack Smith.”

That is a very gracious, if overdue, recognition.

My bird book says the common grackle is “a large, shiny blackbird, larger than a robin, with a long wedge-shaped tail. A crease in the center often gives the tail a keel-shaped appearance, particularly in spring. . . . Male is glossed with iridescent purple on head, deep bronze on back. Female is smaller, less iridescent.”

It was a male I saw, both times. I remember the iridescent purple on his head.

I telephoned my friend and neighbor Donahue to ask if he had written the letter granting me delayed recognition. He laughed hysterically and I gathered that he had not personally recognized my sighting as authentic.

What amazes me is that an ornithologist, of all people, could doubt it. My book, “Field Guide to Western Birds,” (sponsored by the National Audubon Society) notes that the common grackle (not to be confused with the boat-tailed grackle) may be found anywhere from Canada to the Gulf states, is migratory in the Northwest, winters from Colorado to Texas, and is “accidental” in Idaho, Alaska, Washington, Utah and Nevada.

What baffles me is why any bird-watcher, much less an ornithologist, could imagine that any bird native to the United States could possibly have avoided settling down in Southern California, or at least visiting it. Everyone else does.

By the way, the letter asking my help contains a list of birds that evidently have been reported in the Mount Washington area, but whose presence has not been confirmed.

They are the Cooper’s hawk, red-shouldered hawk, red-tailed hawk, band-tailed pigeon, western screech-owl, great horned owl, Anna’s hummingbird, northern flicker, American crow, bushtit, Bewick’s wren, house wren, American robin, wrentit, phainopepla, black-headed grosbeak, rufous-sided towhee, western meadowlark and Brewer’s blackbird.

“These are the birds,” the letter concludes, “whose nesting you might be able to help confirm (there may be additional, unexpected species).”

It is amazing that our little neck of the woods, Mount Washington, could have provided a nesting for so many species. On the other hand, it is true that Mount Washington, which seems so little known to people living outside its margins, is a sort of green paradise, especially this spring, after the copious rainfall.

The common grackle is not a beautiful bird, except perhaps for that iridescent purple found on the male. Its song is described as “a split, rasping note that is both husky and squeaky; a chuck or chock .” Certainly that would not add to the music of our days.

I don’t know why it has taken me so long to get any recognition on my sighting. It isn’t that I care so much for my own reputation. What troubles me is that the bird itself goes unrecognized as one of our natural wonders.

I hope we have seen the last of that strange prejudice, and that the grackle may now join his fellows in the chorus on our hill, even if the only sound he makes is a chuck .

* Jack Smith’s column is published Mondays.

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