About a mile to the east of my house, sitting at the side of the quiet country road upon which I live, there is a small man-made pond that is typical of the kind that one might find near a farm. There are actually several of these ponds along this road, but the one that I am speaking of is different from the rest because it seems to have been totally forgotten. Despite its close proximity to the road it has been entirely surrounded by thick trees and bushes. Only the songs of frogs during the summer months give any indication that the pond exists.

Curiously, this is also the one spot along the road that I am virtually guaranteed to spot an eastern kingbird (Tyrannus tyrannus) perched in the highest branches of a dead tree that stands next to the pond. The kingbird is a flycatcher, which explains the perching on a high, exposed branch. The fact that it seems to like the pond may either be explained by the elevated numbers of flying insects near the water, or the fact that the tree is situated in such a way that the bird’s presence is simply easy to detect as one drives by in a car.

But I will note, with great authority on this particular observation, that my own yard has all of these elements except for the water. Thus, the kingbird’s total absence in my yard during the breeding season is quite conspicuous. Whatever the species is looking for to help with nesting and raising chicks appears to be totally absent from my property. Whatever special combination of habitat features the bird wants, I don’t have it, and I am quite certain that I don’t have a pond.

The eastern kingbird is an aggressive, spunky little bird with an oversized attitude. The scientific name ”Tyrannus,” suggests that I am not the first person to notice this particular trait and, in fact, there is an entire group of flycatchers that seem to follow this particular mode of behavior. Known as the “tyrant” flycatchers, these birds are all moody and pugnacious, but the eastern kingbird is the prototype. The name ”Tyrannus” can be translated as “tyrant, king,” or even “despot,” so the double down on this one word suggests that the kingbird is the “king of the tyrants.” This name is not an accident.

Kingbirds are extremely territorial around their nesting area and they will easily launch themselves into conflict with other birds that pass through their air space. Even a red-tailed hawk will be subjected to a furious aerial assault if it accidentally wanders into a kingbird territory. The large, lumbering hawk will be subjected to dives and close passes from kingbirds and there is even the slight chance that the flycatchers will land on the hawk’s back and start pulling on feathers. I am always reminded of the films of quick and nimble World War II fighter planes harassing slow and vulnerable bombers.

Eastern kingbirds spend a lot of time paying extra attention to raising and feeding their chicks, which means that they generally only have enough time in the year to raise one brood. Once these youngsters have fully fledged and are ready to strike out on their own, all of the little tyrants fan out across the neighborhood and start to cause all sorts of drama wherever they end up.

From my Thinking Chair I have a commanding overview of the airspace above my yard and I never see this species in June. In July I might see them once or twice, but in August they seem to show up and stay. I have watched them take issue with all sorts of other species and launch furious assaults upon anyone that strikes them as irritating. The targets of their attacks often seem confused and totally terrified. Its hilarious.

The Eastern kingbird spends the breeding season in the eastern half of the Lower 48 where they are basically insectivorous. Their main feeding style is called “hawking,” which involves taking up a position on a high, exposed perch and then darting out to catch an insect as it flies by. Bees, wasps, flies, and other flying insects are all on the menu. The birds may also use another technique called “gleaning,” which involves hovering near plants and picking up insects that are not actively flying. This puts grasshoppers, crickets and beetles on the menu.

Article continues after...

Yesterday's Most Read Articles

Bus transit gets a boost to expand, connect routes throughout WMass

Chipotle to open at old Papa Gino’s spot in Northampton

Easthampton Parks and Rec Commission punts Nashawannuck Pond flag issue to City Council

Bittersweet Bakery & Cafe in Deerfield reopens with smaller menu, renewed focus on dinners

UMass basketball: Minutemen's struggles continue in 73-69 loss to Central Connecticut State

Area property deed transfers, Dec. 6

Your Daily Puzzles

Cross|Word

Flipart

Typeshift

SpellTower

Really Bad Chess

In the wintertime (our wintertime, that is) the birds migrate down to South America and seem to experience a total personality change. They spend time together, free of their breeding-season rage, and they eat berries and other small fruits. Only when they return to North America does the inner tyrant boil up to the surface and wreak havoc once again.

At the present time I can regularly see the aerial assaults of the late-season kingbirds in my yard, but the birds are diabolical in the sense that they won’t perch in a spot that allows me to take a decent photo. I can identify them from a distance because of their general black above and white below color pattern, but I can’t get details. But my recent visit to the Parker River National Wildlife Refuge provided me with an amazing gift. Close to the ocean the trees are all stunted and close to an observation deck a young-of-the-year bird just happened to land in a spindly cherry tree. I could tell the bird was young because the “black” feathers were actually a graphite gray and there was just hint of yellow at the corners of the birds’ mouth.

Eastern kingbirds are here in their largest numbers now, but in just a couple weeks they will all be headed down to Brazil. Next weekend may be the last opportunity that you have to see one of these marvelous creatures, so grab some binoculars, grab a friend and go out in search of the Tyrant King. Let’s hope the weather cooperates.

Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 27 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the US Forest Service, the Nature Conservancy and the Massachusetts State Parks and he currently teaches high school biology and physics. For more in formation visit his website at www.speakingofnature.com, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.