Ovenbird.
I got to thinking about evolution on my quick lonesome hike up Beech Hill Preserve this early wet breezy morning. What prompted these thoughts was the behavior of a Pileated Woodpecker—the same woodpecker that I saw drumming on a utility pole at the main trail gate a few weeks ago. At least I’d bet it’s the same woodpecker, because that’s what it was doing this morning, too, during a lull in the drizzle. I’d already turned and started back up the hill when I heard it. I knew what it was. I hurried back down the trail to try for another video, or at least photos, but as I stuck my head around the corner of the stone gate, it saw me and flew. In my direction it flew. Perched for a second or two in a tree above me, then flapped away as I was focusing my camera.
Black-and-white Warbler (female).
After I’d started up the hill again, I got to thinking about evolution. What made the Pileated Woodpecker display such behavior, from the drumming on the pole to the flight at the sight of me to the flapping away? Sheer Pileated Woodpecker instinct? That would be my hunch: after generation-upon-generation of evolution, this bird’s nervous system knows just what to do, just where to go, no matter what happens, right? I mean, there’s no true decision-making involved, is there?
It might seem like a woodpecker is deciding things—where to go, what to eat, what member of its species to mate with—but that’s not really happening, is it? Couldn’t these apparent decisions simply be a matter of random fate? Where it happens to hatch? What particular trees happen to be growing nearby, what woodlands it happens to fledge in, how hungry it is at any given time, what sources of food are available, etc.? What the weather’s like?
It’s still all a miracle, of course—but which species are actually able to choose different patterns of behavior? Make true decisions, I mean? Crows? Dolphins? Apes? Dogs? Humans?
When you think about it, I suppose even human decision-making is really just a matter of evolution, upbringing, accident, weather. Perhaps everything’s simply predetermined, even.
Veery.
Never mind. Apparently I tend to get philosophical during a soggy tramp through a greening woodland. Usually, I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.
1. Black-throated Green Warbler**
2. Ovenbird**
3. Chestnut-sided Warbler**
4. Blue-headed Vireo (v)
5. Common Yellowthroat**
6. Eastern Towhee
7. Black-capped Chickadee
8. Black-and-white Warbler**
9. Gray Catbird
10. Veery
11. American Redstart**
12. Ruffed Grouse
13. American Crow*
14. American Goldfinch (v)
15. Blue Jay (v)
16. Rose-breasted Grosbeak (v)
17. Wood Thrush (v)
18. Herring Gull* (v)
19. Song Sparrow**
20. Yellow Warbler** (v)
21. Brown-headed Cowbird
22. Savannah Sparrow
23. Pileated Woodpecker
24. House Finch (v)
25. Northern Cardinal**
26. Greater Yellowlegs (v)
27. Hermit Thrush (v)
28. Black-throated Blue Warbler (v)
29. Broad-winged Hawk
30. Mallard
31. Northern Parula (v)
32. Eastern Phoebe
33. Tufted Titmouse** (v)
Elsewhere
34. House Sparrow (v)
35. Laughing Gull (v)
36. Bald Eagle
v = Voice only
*Also elsewhere
**Voice only elsewhere
†First-of-year bird
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, American redstart, bald eagle, black-capped chickadee, black-throated blue warbler, black-throated green warbler, blue jay, blue-headed vireo, broad-winged hawk, brown-headed cowbird, chestnut-sided warbler, common yellowthroat, eastern phoebe, eastern towhee, greater yellowlegs, herring gull, house finch, house sparrow, laughing gull, mallard, northern cardinal, northern parula, ovenbird, pileated woodpecker, ray catbird, rose-breasted grosbeak, ruffed grouse, savannah sparrow, song sparrow, tufted titmouse, veery, wood thrush, yellow warbler
