Called also: CRESTED REDBIRD; VIRGINIA REDBIRD; VIRGINIA
NIGHTINGALE; CARDINAL BIRD; [NORTHERN CARDINAL, AOU 1998]
Length -- 8 to 9 inches. A little smaller than the robin.
Male -- Brilliant cardinal; chin and band around bill black. Beak
stout and red. Crest conspicuous. In winter dress, wings washed
with gray.
Female -- Brownish yellow above, shading to gray below. Tail
shorter than the male's. Crest, wings, and tail reddish. Breast
sometimes tinged with red.
Range -- Eastern United States. A Southern bird, becoming more
and more common during the summer in States north of Virginia,
especially in Ohio, south of which it is resident throughout
the year.
Migrations -- Resident rather than migrating birds, remaining
throughout the winter in localities where they have found their
way. Travel in flocks.
Among the numerous names by which this beautiful bird is known, it has become
immortalized under the title of Mr. James Lane Allen's exquisite book, "The
Kentucky Cardinal." Here, while we are given a most charmingly sympathetic,
delicate account of the bird "who has only to be seen or heard, and Death
adjusts an arrow," it is the cardinal's pathetic fate that impresses one most.
Seen through less poetical eyes, however, the bird appears to be a haughty
autocrat, a sort of "F. F. V." among the feathered tribes, as, indeed, his
title, "Virginia redbird," has been unkindly said to imply. Bearing himself
with a refined and courtly dignity, not stooping to soil his feet by walking
on the ground like the more democratic robin, or even condescending below the
level of the laurel bushes, the cardinal is literally a shining example of
self-conscious superiority -- a bird to call forth respect and admiration
rather than affection. But a group of cardinals in a cedar tree in a snowy
winter landscape makes us forgetful of everything but their supreme beauty.
As might be expected in one of the finch family, the cardinal is a songster --
the fact which, in connection with his lovely plumage, accounts for the number
of these birds shipped in cages to Europe, where they are known as Virginia
nightingales. Commencing with a strong, rich whistle, like the high notes of a
fife, "Cheo-cheo-cheo-cheo," repeated over and over as if to make perfect the
start of a song he is about to sing, suddenly he stops, and you learn that
there is to be no glorious performance after all, only a prelude to --
nothing. The song, such as it is, begins, with both male and female, in March,
and lasts, with a brief intermission, until September -- "the most melodious
sigh," as Mr. Allen calls it. Early in May the cardinals build a bulky and
loosely made nest, usually in the holly, laurel, or other evergreen shrubs
that they always love to frequent, especially if these are near fields of corn
or other grain. And often two broods in a year come forth from the pale-gray,
brown-marked eggs, beating what is literally for them the "fatal gift of
beauty."