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Richard Orr, the _Tribune_ reporter, called me one day about bronze
grackles. It seems that the Chicago _Tribune_, in their "Day by Day
on the Farm," had told about the grackles on the _Tribune_ farm. A
_Tribune_ reader wrote in, expressing surprise that grackles were
permitted on the _Tribune_ farm and gave details of destruction by
grackles of other birds, personally observed. What were the facts of
the case? Should grackles be tolerated? Or should they be eliminated?
Orr wanted to know.
This is the sort of question that is difficult. It is important,
too, for it involves basic conservation issues. And there is no
sharp, clear-cut yes-or-no answer. The question as to the grackle's
character reminds me of the character of Moses, as explained when I
was in school by a professor of the Bible: The black was there and
the white was there; Moses was a character sketch in gray. And so
with most creatures. They're both good and bad from our standpoint.
Grackles certainly do kill other birds at times, and interrupt the
nesting of some of our favorite songbirds. And yet, liking birds as I
do, I tolerate them in my garden. On a trumpet vine on our garage in
Chesterton, Indiana, one year we had a grackle build its nest on top of
a domed English-sparrow nest. The young of both sparrows and grackles
hatched about the same time, and the two families, within six inches
of each other, were successfully raised without friction between the
parents.
Quite evidently grackles are not always killers of other birds. As to
robins or grackles being the "better" birds, if we had a robin's nest
that we prized, and the grackle killed the young in it, the grackle
would be "bad." But if we were an inquiring farmer, and had to weigh
the grackle against the robin, we might find the grackle "good" and the
robin "bad." The grackle feeds its young vast quantities of insects
harmful to the gardener; the robin sometimes seems to specialize in
earthworms. Earthworms are beneficial to man, passing through the
earth, making air and water more accessible, and, by passing earth and
vegetable matter through their intestines, enrich the soil.
The house wren that warned the _Tribune_ reader when the grackles
were about is often prized as a garden bird; it is bold, saucy in
appearance, and a vigorous songster. But it is also well known as a
quarrelsome bird, prone to punch holes in the eggs of its neighbors,
and it also may fill up with sticks nesting boxes so that other birds
cannot use them.
The above was the gist of what I told Orr, and appeared in the May 5,
1950, _Tribune_.
Thinking of it afterwards, as is usual, I thought of many other things
I could have said, and perhaps made more clear that no bird is all good
or all bad, from our human point of view. Their relationships with
the rest of the landscape are complex. I like to see butterflies flit
about my garden. But butterflies are caterpillars at one stage. And
caterpillars may eat some of the things in my garden. But some birds
feed on caterpillars. If I eliminate the caterpillars because they
eat the plants I like, at one stroke I eliminate the source of the
butterflies I like, and food for some birds I also like.
Perhaps the partial answer, if answer there be in this imperfect
world, is summed up by moderation: I can have some butterflies, some
caterpillars, some plants, and some birds in my garden. If one becomes
too abundant and interferes with the others, I prune it. Maintaining
some sort of a balance, we can have some of each.