A bird is known by its note; a man by his talk

A la plume et au chant l'oiseau; au parler le bon cerveau
For those of us that are not birders or ornithologists, describing bird song can be rather tricky. A handy system of remembering and identifying which call belongs to which species is to use mnemonics. Tom Lorenzin assembled such a list and describes the calls of a few species as:

• Barn Swallow: tit-tit-tit-tit (rapid staccato)
• Clark's Nutcracker: kraa-a-a-a (long, drawn-out), or kra-kra-kra-kra
• Cooper's Hawk: kek-kek-kek-kek-kek
• Downy Woodpecker: pik (flat)
• Hairy Woodpecker: peeeek (sharply, somewhat nasal)
• Pileated Woodpecker: kik-kik-kik-kik-kik (rate & pitch rise then fall)
• Red-bellied Woodpecker: churrr, churrr (throaty, deeply trilled) or, chack, chack, chack (soft and diminishing)
• Red-headed Woodpecker: squeer, squeer (raspy)
• Yellow-bellied Sapsucker: meeew (whiny, nasal)
  

While the average person may not be able to identify a species by song alone, to avid birders or those that study the species, each call is as distinct and identifiable, not only to breed, but also to situation. Specifically, of genus sphyrapicus, the Yellow-bellied sapsucker's repertoire is varied. It’s most common call is a slurred cat-like "me-ah” that sounds as if it is emanating from the nasal passages and falls in pitch. "Week-week-wurp-wurp" are exchanged between pairs and their juveniles. The territorial call sounds more like a "kwee-urk" and is the exchange between mates. Even drumming, the sound made as it taps its bill on trees or other structures while foraging or for individual recognition, consists of a rapid series of strikes followed by several intermittent thumps.

Collector Charles Emil Bendire, a specimen collector for Spencer Baird at the Smithsonian in the late 19th Century, noted that the Red-bellied Woodpecker is a rather noisy bird. “Its ordinary call note resembles the 'tchurr, tchurr' of the red-headed very closely; another sounds more like 'chawh, chawh,' and this is occasionally varied with a disagreeable creaking note, A soft, slurred, nasal whee-ur or mew. Also drums: several rapid thumps followed by several slow, rhythmic thumps. The display communication of the spring pair is not a drum but a broken series tap: prrrrrrrp, prrp, prp, prp. While during the mating season peculiar, low, mournful cooing sounds are sometimes uttered, which somewhat resemble those of the Mourning Dove."

Although it turned out that my elusive online friend wasn't Doug Reynolds, the son of the founder of the engineering firm Reynolds, Smith & Hills in Tallahassee, there were some facts that he'd shared that did ring true. He’d told me at one time that he studied acoustics of bird and whale song. While acoustics may not have been the primary focus of his current research, he had spent time as an ichthyologist researching whales and was now an ornithologist, concentrating his research efforts on the ecology and trophic dynamics of birds.

September 19, 2005 arrived and the leaves had begun to show signs of a fast-approaching autumn season, and the air was crisp. The deep blue sky was clear and sunrays flickered and danced across the rippled aquamarine lake that bordered my office complex. By this time in the year, all phone lines to the building had been disconnected and I was attempting to finalise all wind up affairs via my cell phone. I walked out of the building and settled on the grassy verge along the lake to make the call, where it was tranquil and private. I dialed and the phone rang three times. It was almost 12 months since he last sent me an email as "Doug", and I know that I was both anxious and nervous at the same time. He’d, after all, attempted to suggest that I had him mistaken for someone else in April in response to my birthday email, but I knew, without question that I had not.

A familiar sounding voice answered the call, and my mind reflected for a moment on the long nights we’d spent in voice chat. It was great to hear the warmth and deep resonance of his masculine voice. Yes, a voice I had said more than a year ago, I'd never forget. Within moments I quietly announced who I was and asked how he was. Upon hearing my name, he claimed he didn’t know me, and nervously I begged for him not to make the call more difficult than it was. I had no interest in the “Whys and wherefores” and had no intention of discussing anything related to his masquerade as a multi-millionaire, nor did I wish to focus on the events of the past. I was just keen on making direct contact with someone I enjoyed and to pave the way clear for an honest basis on which to place our friendship.

My voice began to tremble as he denied knowledge of Clark or Doug Reynolds, and I fought back the tears as I pleaded with him not to do this. Then, a moment later he asked if I was the same “swissnut” that once posted on the immigration newsgroup ILW.

“Yes, I am” I replied.

“I thought so, I’m Sphyrapicus, but I have never heard of the people you are speaking of. I’m sorry but I have to go” he replied, and I heard the click of the phone as he abruptly terminated the call.