The Purple Martin
From Bent's Life Histories
1942
Contributed by Alexander Sprunt, Jr 

We think our readers will enjoy this section of a historic account of the Purple Martin. Although it was published in 1942, many of the quoted observations are from the 1800's and early 1900's. Bent's Life Histories make great reading because they allow glimpses into the past. It is evident that the fascination and interest we have for Purple Martins today, our ancestors had, generations ago. It's a reminder, too, that we must pass a respect and love of nature on to our children and grandchildren.

On a final note, some of the information in this article, although of great historic value, is anecdotal and not scientific. Be aware that our perceptions of the martin are a lot more accurate today than they were when most of this was written. For instance, martins are not triple brooded as Audubon asserts - they are single brooded, and rarely ever double brooded. See if you can find other inaccuracies.

Though unable to lay any claim to being a musician, and therefore incompetent to judge music, I cannot but feel some slight resentment toward writers who characterize the voice of the martin as "unmusical"! True, some of the notes are such, but there are many others that are decidedly pleasing. All writers seem to agree that on the whole the vocal efforts of the species are "pleasing," which, in itself, denotes that they are musical rather than otherwise.

Certainly, they are pleasing. This fact has undoubtedly a great deal to do with the attraction of a martin colony about one's home. People generally enjoy hearing them. The bird has no specific "song," such as many species possess, but the varied medley of notes has a definite quality of imparting satisfaction and enjoyment to human ears.

The outstanding impression always left upon me is that of contentment. In few birds is this so typified. The gurgling chatter of a group about its nesting box gives one the complete assurance that, so far as the martins are concerned, "all's well with the world"! There is a restfulness about the notes that is distinctly relaxing; they can be listened to at a time when a person is reclining on a porch in an easy chair in springtime and fit perfectly with the droning of bees about a flowering vine, the sighing of a breeze through moss-hung oaks, and the distant calling of willets over the salt marshes. The notes of the martins simply "fit" a spring and summer picture, and while such a description may be exactly what a nonmusical ear would produce in words, i. e., very inadequate, it is certainly something of a tribute to the birds!

As has been so often and rightly said, it is difficult, not to say impossible, to render any idea of a bird's notes by written words. Yet that is about the only way to be specific, and while one's own interpretation may differ from another's, it continues to be done, and has to be. In the case of the martin, Audubon (1840) did not attempt a word translation. He simply says that "the note of the martin is not melodious, but is nevertheless very pleasing." Wilson (1831) went farther and produced the following: "Loud musical 'peuo, peuo, peuo'." Forbush (1929) quotes W. M. Tyler as describing a "loud, rich chirrupping." Many authors describe some of the lower notes as "guttural," which is accurate enough. The alarm note is stated by Tyler as "kerp," and he adds a "low-toned 'kroop' song and several throaty notes followed by a spluttering trill."

Francis H. Allen (MS.) says that the "call notes uttered in flight are a low, mellow, but somewhat husky chip; a ye(r)p, and a kew." The similarity between Tyler's kerp and Allen's ye(r)p is at once apparent, and this note can hardly be described in a better way.

S. S. Dickey (MS.) has this to say: "Purple Martins, which scarcely can be called songsters, usually utter loud, penetrative twitterings. They give vent to exclamations of singular delight." This last is a rather happy expression and fits my idea exactly! He adds that "as the nesting season advances they, by spells, break almost into song; spick-spack-spitter-spee-spack are the syllables. When troubled by English sparrows, bluebirds, and starlings, they swoop in downward curves in pursuit of the nuisances, and utter buzzing sounds as spiz-spiz-spiz." Dickey concludes with the statement that these "outcries are not to be confused with those of any other swallow. The utterances have a character of their own, and it is good to hear them if you chance to be one fond of past association and summer excursions." One can easily subscribe to the last thought; it at once brings to mind a dreamy summer afternoon in the side yard, but some of Dickey's "sp" interpretations are rather difficult to follow. Evidently this sound has impressed him considerably, for he uses it consistently.

During the great gatherings at roosts late in summer the birds are extremely vociferous, and their notes at such times have been likened to "escaping steam" by some authors. This imparts a rather hissing impression that is certainly characteristic of these communal gatherings, but the simile leaves one a little cold. At such times the vocal efforts of the birds are neither musical nor pleasing and often result in becoming a nuisance because of monotony and volume.

While the martin is not, in any sense, nocturnal, its notes are sometimes heard after dark. One such instance is recorded by Abby F. C. Bates, of Waterville, Maine (1901). She heard martins plainly about 10 P. M. on the moonlight night of August 8, 1900. Mr. Bates heard martins on June 15, 1930, between 2 and 3 A. M. as he was returning home from a late train. These auditors seem to consider this a highly unusual thing, but in the South I have frequently heard martins at night. I once lived across the street in Charleston from a friend who maintained a large martin colony, while just over the back fence was another. I recall hearing the birds now and then, but I never made any series of observation or records of it. However, on looking up my notes under this species, I do find the following: "Heard martins 'singing' in E. A. Williams' bird-house at 11 P. M. tonight." This entry was under date of May 1, 1933. These night notes are of a lazy, sleepy character, which one might expect from birds aroused by some slight disturbance. In no case have I ever heard them in an alarmed or excited nature, simply a low chuckle, or gurgle, indicative of restlessness or temporary wakefulness.

Audubon, J. J. 1840. The Birds of America, Vol. 1.
Forbush, E. H. 1929. Birds of Massachusetts and Other New England States. Vol 3.
Wilson, A. 1831. American Ornithology. Vol. 2.

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