You might walk past a singing male Henslow’s Sparrow and not realize that a faint little tsk sound you heard was a bird’s song.
It’s soft and quick. Here is an example of a male’s song, which I recorded in a grassy field near my home. (To hear it, you might need to turn up your volume.)
The least impressive bird song in the world, right?
When I got home and analyzed it, slowing down the recording, I was surprised to hear a rather musical melody of several notes!
The male sings to announce that he owns a particular patch of grassland. He sings to persuade a female to become his mate.
The female hears every note that our human ears miss. She hears the pronouncement of the male’s grassy territory, and of his great genetic promise.
She listens, and then she selects the male who will father her offspring.
I'm lucky to live within walking distance of an open field in Iowa where Henslow’s Sparrows nest. But when I visit, sometimes I have to stand still and get quiet among the grasses and wildflowers before my ears can pick up their songs.
When at last I notice it, I realize I've been hearing it the whole time, without actually hearing it.
I spot a sparrow, balanced at the top of a goldenrod that rises a little above the grass. My eye falls on another. And another.
Then I realize that there are dozens of Henslow's Sparrows in view. All singing.
I hear more in their songs now. I hear of their utter reliance on grasslands, the only place where they can live and reproduce. I hear the echo of the native prairie that once clothed the Midwest. I hear the argument for all that is beloved and irreplaceable in the natural world.
That which was so insignificant as to escape my notice is filling my ears now, rich and melodious in the shimmering grass.
What about snakes who also live on the prairie? Don’t the eat these lil guys? They just seem so vulnerable out there on the grass.
Amazing, as they are normally so hard to find and see. You got some amazing pictures!