The song of the Bobolink is both strange and delightful, a percussive mix of clinks and warblings heard on warm summer days above unmowed fields. Even his latin name, Dolichonyx oryzivorus, sounds like a phrase from the bubbly babbling if this charismatic blackbird.  A few weekends ago I returned to Grass Lake for another session with the birds, and captured some video of a diplay flight while playing with the new camera — if you listen closely, you can hear those jumbled notes above the wind and the whirr of the autofocus:

Bobolinks in this area are largely dependent on farmland, particularly areas of hay or stubble where they can build their ground nests.  They are area-sensitive birds, meaning that densities decrease with the size of available grassland (a large field will have a higher density of Bobolinks than a small one).  Urban sprawl and the steady loss and abandonment of agricultural land has reduced the birds’ habitat, and as such their population has been in decline since the 1940s.  Another factor has been changes in agricultural practices, with hay fields being cut earlier and more frequently throughout the growing season.

While I was watching the Bobolinks, a farm tractor pulled into the alfalfa field behind me and began mowing.  Bobolinks tend not to nest in alfalfa, and by mid-June I would expect that most species’ first broods would have already fledged, but I’ve no doubt that at least a few nests fell under the blades that day.  I certainly don’t hold anything against the farmers — waiting until the breeding season is over would jeopardize the second harvest, which in turn affects their livelihood.  It’s an unfortunate situation, and it remains to be seen whether Bobolink populations will continue to decline.  I certainly hope that their odd, joyful song never disappears from the region.