The genus of the Long-billed Curlew is Numenius – Greek for “of” or “like” the new moon. In various cultures, the curlew symbolizes a duality of sorrow and joy, comfort and sadness; a certain poignancy, I suppose. I’m not sure if the “new moon” refers to the fresh beginning of a lunar cycle – curlews do return to the same nesting grounds each spring with striking reliability – or if it simply describes the elegant crescent of their bills. Regardless, the name feels intentional.
With recent losses, a milestone birthday, and new horizons opening up, it is no wonder that I woke up this morning with a singular thought: to be surrounded by the calls of curlews. Fortunately, I knew exactly where to find a spot to bask in them.
I only discovered curlews existed about twenty years ago. But once I saw them, and truly heard them, they quickly became my favorite bird. They are at once elegant and absurd – perfectly camouflaged, yet hauntingly loud. Graceful neck and bill, but the proportion seems almost like a caricature. Though classified as shorebirds, here in Montana, you’re more likely to find them near a wet meadow. Or the scrubby brush nearby wet meadows.
To divert danger from their nests, they leap from their hidden spot, calling constantly and circling the intruder to keep its attention fixed on them. It is a distraction display similar to that of a killdeer. Since killdeer and curlews share the same taxonomic Order, this shared instinct makes sense – they aren’t quite cousins, but they appear to speak the same defensive language.
All of this is to say that a little before 7:00 am, I was standing at the edge of a field, watching several species of large, charismatic avifauna and listening to several curlews sing. They were the lead vocalists, supported by a slightly frantic symphony of Snipes, Ibis, Sandhill Cranes, Pipits, Flickers, Geese, Red-winged Blackbirds, and at least four species of sparrow.
There were no cars, no people, and no planes or trains. Just me on a dirt road, wonderful scenery, and the wild abandon of a dozen species making their presence known.
This morning was magical.
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