All winter, the chickadees and a pair of cardinals owned our backyard. A few nuthatches would visit from time to time as well as a couple mourning doves. For some reason, we have not had blue jays since our first winter here. I see them when I walk, but mostly on the inland side of the road.

Then, early in spring, a flock of boat-tailed grackles arrived. Suddenly, our feeder was mobbed by these busy, black birds. They decorated the empty branches of the ash and maple trees. And their short sharp calls broke the winter silence. They were not aggressive with the other birds. Chickadees still came to the bird feeders, but there were so many of them, they felt like the dominant avian presence.

Once the snow went, they spent a lot of time hunting in the grass. Again, they shared the space. I often saw flickers moving across the yard among the grackles. Robins seemed a bit more cautious, spending their time apart from the other birds.

For some reason, the grackles are not as fond of chipmunks. I saw one actively chase a chipmunk across the treed area in our front yard. The bird swooped down onto the chipmunk’s back and pecked it. The chipmunk moved along, but the grackle followed it a long way.

Clearly the bird knew something I did not: chipmunks don’t just eat seeds. They are happy to eat bird’s eggs, given the chance. I find this hard to picture as a grackle’s egg can’t be that small. But, last summer, chipmunks were able to pick small tomatoes off my bushes. They’d take a couple big bites, and then leave them lying around. I had to ripen all the tomatoes inside.

Chipmunks have taken to digging into the pots where I transplanted young zucchini and peppers. Last year, they dug out my zucchini seeds, which is why I decided to sprout them indoors this year. But the little creatures are still digging in the pots even though there are no seeds to find. Insects there might well be. I still find the little creatures cute, but they sure are troublesome. Who knew they are as omnivorous as bears. The grackles are welcome to chase them.

Nest building started quite soon after they arrived. The deciduous trees were still quite bare. I suspect the nests are deep in the spruce and cedar trees, protected and hidden.

Grackles seem to be quite social creatures. If you see one, look around because there is certainly at least one more nearby. When one takes flight, another will be close behind, with a third following. And where there are two grackles or more, there is a conversation. They are always clicking at each other. A short jeep is a common sound in our yard these days. When transplanting seedlings the other day, I knew grackles were in the trees behind me as they chipped and jeeped to each other.

There is another sound they make sometimes, a richer, deeper roll. Still, I would name it a call rather than a song. And that is how they use it, to call out to each other as if to say “I’m here,” with a “here I am” answer close behind.  

Except first thing in the morning. They are pretty quiet on my first trip out with the dog. Other melodies fill the morning air with a variety of songs. These birds are silent.

Because I was thinking about them, I looked up information about grackles.  (I looked up chipmunks too which is how I learned all the stuff they are willing to eat.) Turns out that the males and females take turns sitting on the nest, and that the female does not call very often. I suspect then that the group of birds I see in the morning are females taking a break and getting in their nourishment.

There isn’t much silence in our yard these days. The grackles seem to constantly need to check in with each other. But their flight is so graceful, even though their voice is often described as a rusty gate. And their commitment to community is fascinating. I will be interested in how that community grows once the little ones are out of the nest.

Cathy Hird lives on the traditional territory of the Saugeen Ojibway Nation