Birds as Cars

One of the major topographic features of New Mexico is the Rio Grande River. It cuts a swath down the center of the state in what is otherwise a vast expanse of elevated scrub and mountains. In fact, remove the mighty Rio Grande, which actually runs dry at times here during the summer because of irrigation, and the place would be a moonscape devoid of green and any life save that which can survive on little or no water. Which includes humans.

I’m thinking that our fair state when viewed from space is like a huge rust bucket punctuated by a thin green streak of vegetation. One thing about the verdant band of greenery is that it makes for a convenient byway for birds to follow when they migrate. And migrate they do in huge numbers every spring and fall. Which means that if you live near the river, the bird population is remarkable. Just last year our friend Fernando, a musician and outstanding bird photographer who lives in Los Ranchos less than half a mile from the river, wrote that his annual back yard bird count was over 100 species.

Our backyard, however, is over six miles from the river. It may not seem far, but it’s a distance infinitum in the bird universe. After all, the green belt that parallels the river is long gone by the time you get to Rio Rancho. Otherwise, our housing development was built in 2004, to attract those who either belonged to—or who would join—the Rio Rancho Golf Club. People just like my father-in-law, Bennie. But the club would go bankrupt within a decade of his moving here with the huge expanse of 36 holes of greenery quickly reverting to scrub. For the birds, it simply meant a change in habitat, from green and random hydration sources (water hazards) to the cover of brown and brush.

Suffice it to say that we have our own bird population here. Compared to Fernando’s casa, it’s a minute slice with a handful of species that show up in numbers because we put food and water out for them on the regular.

I wonder what birds think of humans like us who insist on feeding them. Do they get a rosy glow in their little bird brains and hearts from our generosity? Or do they think “ah, another nimnod who’s dense enough to feed us.” It’s probably a combination of the two. However, I’m sure they’re glad for a source of food and water, especially when it gets cold or during inclement weather. Per the latter, they can all duck and cover in the two sets of large juniper trees in the backyard.

Bennie had the junipers planted years ago when some rube built a huge garish two story house across the street that blocked his view of the Sandia Mountains. He complained to the city citing a housing height ordnance, but to no avail. Little did he know that in time two more huge houses would be built next to it, obliterating any view we had left of the mountains. I’m glad he didn’t live to see them. Talk about poor taste in architecture.

Despite the lamest efforts of housing developers, birds still hang out in our backyard in numbers. That said, there are times when I think about each species in the context of an auto that matches their personality. With that, here’s a scorecard of the regulars who grace us with their avian presence and the cars they remind me of.

Goldfinches: If birds were cars, Goldfinches would be something small, attractive, and zippy like a Cooper Mini.

House finches: are the Toyota Camry of the bird world. Always found in large numbers with an attractive design and touches of bright color.

Robins: the Audi A4 of birds. Sleek and stylish with a beautiful red breast. Nimble in movement with a surprisingly gorgeous song.

Doves: Their long and low profile reminds me of the Volvo V60—the small station wagon. I’m also fond of the coo-cooing doves do when they’re at seed central—which they do a lot. 

Pigeons: the rats of the sky. Not a fan. They’re stupid beyond reason, eat all the food, and crap everywhere. However, if they were a car it would have to be something larger and lowest common denominator. The old Ford Crown Victoria is perfect. Talk about Detroit’s finest hour.

Gambel quail: the scaredy cats of the bird world. If they were a car, they’d be something round but nimble and quick like a late model VW Beetle. My son Patrick and I pulled up behind a bright red one in traffic the other morning. A very cool looking car. Why they ever stopped producing it I’ll never know. Maybe it will be like Apple with the iPod.

Crows and ravens: I like both a lot, especially ravens. However, they’re capable of annihilating any food source in short order and they defecate like no other. As for cars, both remind of the noisy, fast street jobs of the 70s like Cameros, Firebirds, and Barracudas.

Roadrunners: odd, strange, and otherwise eclectic dinosaur birds, as seen in the photo above. They’re also relentless predators and will kill anything on the menu—which is everything smaller than they are. Otherwise, you might think that the roadrunner-car thing would be easy. There’s even a muscle car of old with the same name. But I think we can do better. It still needs to be something that goes fast in a straight line. I know, a Corvette. The new ones look like Italian space ships.

Coopers hawks: are gorgeous birds and ruthless predators. I wonder if hawks ever smile. And does loving one mean never having to say you’re sorry--as in that sorry-ass movie from the 70s? Anyway, Coopers hawks can show astonishing speed and mid-air movement. I’ve seen one fly the entire length of our back yard in a few seconds, in hot pursuit of a dumbass pigeon that wasn’t paying attention. That aside, the Coopers hawk calls for a vehicle with serious acceleration and handling capability. My vote goes to the Maserati Quattroporte.

Owls: the most secretive birds of all. We usually hear them rather than see them. But we did see a pair on Superbowl night in February of 2020. Tom Brady and the Buccaneers had just finished shellacking Patrick Mahomes and the Chiefs, something the 49ers have failed to do twice. Just after the game, Carla came in saying there was an owl hoot-hooting away on the neighbor’s roof. I went outside, and sure enough there in the gathering darkness I could make out the profile of a large bird on the next door neighbor’s roof. We stood silently and within minutes it started to hoot again, only to be answered by another owl that had landed on a nearby rooftop. Then, in a true David Attenborough moment, owl B suddenly flew over to owl A, landing on top of it for a brief boink. The tryst only lasted seconds. I hope it resulted in a brood of owlets. As for owls and cars, it would have to be something fast but a bit heftier, like the Porsche Cayenne.