REMEMBER THAT catchy tune by George Shearing? Last night in the light of the full moon, a call: “CHIP wido WIDO, CHIP wido WIDO”. A nightjar had set up courtship camp right outside our bedroom window. was 2:30 a.m. Now I’m wide awake: what else to do but reflect on bird calls?

A Northern Mockingbird sits next to Yellow Jasmine and celebrates spring at St. Marks. Photo by Christine Barnes, The Northfield News Bird songs and calls are as individual as our own language and dialects, and even baby birds in the nest can tell daddy Robin’s song from all the others. Mostly, it’s males that have the operatic voices. But some females, such as the Northern Cardinal, have been spotted in full throat, as well.

The Robin’s melodic song is a welcome part of the spring chorus. On a summer evening’s walk at the edge of the forest, I listen: Wood Trush, Hermit Thrush and Veery are among my favorite north woods flutists. In Florida, the Northern Mockingbird has recently lost its status as the state bird (to an Osprey), but its song, both day and night, it one of the sweetest of all.

Warbler songs are so distinctive that, once the leaves are out on the trees, often the only way to identify these quick-moving little birds is by their sweet melodies. Then, if you’re really lucky, with binoculars you can see their jewel-colored bodies, a real treat. If you have any kind of an ear for music and some patience, get a bird song device from a nature store and learn a few of the songs. You might get hooked!

Everyone’s favorite is the busy Ruby-throated Hummingbird, darting from flower to flower in your garden. Sometimes a hummer will emit a little squeak, but the loud, deep, droning sound it makes when it dives in courtship arcs is said to be done by changing the position of its tail feathers. Likewise, the loud drumming sound the Ruffed Grouse makes, which sounds like a diesel engine starting somewhere in the woods, is actually created by a standing bird’s rapidly beating wings.

Jet-black Crows and Ravens have all kinds of interesting calls and guttural sounds. Once playing tennis my partner and I laughed back at a Fish Crow who sat on a wire watching our feeble efforts, calling “Ought-oh, ought-oh,” each time we missed. Ravens have an astounding repertoire, sometimes making little konky sounds high in the pines in Vermont, or sometime tones with a bell-like quality. And more.

The Boat-tailed Grackle chatters and squeaks in the Sabal Palms on the refuge. It knows when to keep its mouth shut, however, and can slip silently through the open window of a visitor’s parked car to grab an unguarded potato chip.

The Osprey overhead has an endearing chirp, repeated until you know he’s there. Our stately, fierce national symbol, the Bald Eagle, however, in films has the Red-tailed Hawk’s piercing scream dubbed over its apologetic twitter for effect.

On the other hand, there is nothing apologetic about Whooping Crane. In its full adult stature, this crane is over five feet tall, and has a sevenfoot wing span. Its blindingly white feathers can be spotted great distance across the salt marsh. Its call is anything but a ‘whoop’, which sounds sort of soft when you say it. The call of the Whooping Crane is more like a bugle gone wild. It is loud, unforgettable.

“CHIP wido WIDO”, insisted the Chuck-will’s Widow. With the full moon shining brightly through the ancient Live Oaks, for about seven minutes, this was amusing. But the calls repeated, not just once in a while, but in a piercing voice about twice a second – for over 40 minutes. Ear plugs were useless. As fond as I am of the bird world, this sleepless night brought to mind several evil schemes to thwart the mooning nightjar’s next night-time tryst. “CHIP wido WIDO, CHIP wido WIDO, CHIP wido WIDO,” it yelled. Lullaby it ain’t.