Painted bunting

"The painted bunting hardly seems a creature of feathers at all, but rather a dancing butterfly. No other North American species is so brightly colored, or wears such a Joseph's coat of startling contrasts. No wonder many people seeing it for the first time can scarcely credit their eyes, because nothing else approaches it. Its Southern name, the nonpareil, fulfills the name, for it is without equal." (Alexander Sprunt in A.C. Bent's encyclopedic "Life history of American Birds.")

I love watching animals. Deciphering the meaning of their behavior is a great mental exercise, and a wonderful stress reliever. While doing so, I feel I am in the presence of a greater power, and if I watch carefully enough I will see something that stimulates my thoughts. Sometimes, as I puzzle something out, I realize the effort also is helping me to figure out another problem in my life. A preacher once told me we go through life learning lessons, and if we do not learn a lesson the first time it is presented, it will be given to us again and again, until we do learn it. Strangely enough, I often find an answer to an unrelated problem by witnessing the actions of some bird or lizard or butterfly.

Even if that does not happen, I still have lots of fun watching. One of the prettiest birds on the Llano Estacado is the painted bunting. This red, blue and chartreuse bird lives in dense mesquite thickets. Males sing from sun-up to sun-down, hidden in the depths of the brambles. A person would think such a brightly colored bird would easily be seen, but only a few times a day does it emerge to find the highest perch from which to celebrate its territory. In years of adequate rainfall, a person can find buntings near patches of plains bristlegrass (setaria leucopila).

In the summer, bristlegrass can make up 70 percent of the diet of the painted bunting. It is the most utilized grass in the list of wildlife foods -- 250 species of birds have been observed eating the large round seeds that pack the stem. Long hairs are interspersed between the seeds, hence the name. Another less common species of bristlegrass, knotroot bristlegrass, has bristles that are worse than Velcro and often are the starting point of matted hair on dogs and long-haired cats.

A painted bunting stands on the ground and nibbles every seed it can reach. A fully-loaded bristlegrass seedhead often bends over, nearly touching the ground. As the bird eats, the stem becomes lighter and straightens up again. Then the bird flies up and grasps the stem in its beak and rides it to the ground. The tension of the stem causes it to start sliding through the beak of the bird, and many seeds are stripped from the panicle. The seeds scatter on the ground, and the bird has an easy job for a while. It then repeats the process until not a seed is left on the plant.

Science warns against anthropomorphizing animals and giving them more credit for intelligence than they deserve. For some people, the above behavior is explained by the word "instinct." No problem-solving ability is allowed for any animal species other than human. It does not matter many species of bird and mammal have been observed using tools.

When I watch a painted bunting completely process a stem of bristlegrass, I feel I am witnessing conscious thought. I feel the bird has figured out the most efficient way to harvest the crop. To me, a head cocked from several different directions, and then a launch that causes 100 seeds to come tumbling to the ground indicates active and creative resolution of a problem. I witness a tiny creature thoroughly completing a job, and utilizing a number of different techniques. From observing its efforts, I learn about the importance of trying many approaches to reach a goal, to not be thwarted by the failure of one or more attempts. I feel it is a lesson from a higher power, passed on to me because I took the time to observe, think, reflect and analyze.

 The species is hard to photograph, because of their secretive and nervous ways.