"Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink..."

Do you remember that line from the poem "Robert of Lincoln," by William Cullen Bryant? I learned it when I was in the fourth grade, and it always stuck with me. When I saw these shots of the Bobolinks from the "rejected June" photos, that line kept running through my head...

"...Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink..."

A male Bobolink in the High Meadow at Voice of America (VOA) Park

Since I was going back to my childhood with this post, I pulled out my first field guide—"Teach-Me about Birds, Flash Cards in full color" to see how they described the Bobolink's unique and beautiful song. Their description is spot on: "A bubbling series of musical notes given in flight or from a perch." It's simple and perfect...."a bubbling series of musical notes..."

A female Bobolink is pretty. Just like a cardinal, she has that "understated elegance."

I like this photo because it clearly shows his pointy tail feathers!

...you can see those pointy tail feathers just a bit here, but this shot really emphasizes his strong feet and legs. For his size, they really are beefy!

"When you can pipe that merry old strain,

Robert of Lincoln, come back again."

I wanted to find the poem, so I looked it up and found a free eBook that has it. Click here for the online version of the book "Poems That Every Child Should Know—A Selection of the Best Poems of all Time for Young People," edited by Mary E. Burt (1906)

Robert of Lincoln
by William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878)

Merrily swinging on brier and weed,
Near to the nest of his little dame,
Over the mountain-side or mead,
Robert of Lincoln is telling his name:
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Snug and safe is that nest of ours,
Hidden among the summer flowers,
Chee, chee, chee.

Robert of Lincoln is gayly drest,
Wearing a bright black wedding-coat;
White are his shoulders and white his crest
Hear him call in his merry note:
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Look, what a nice coat is mine.
Sure there was never a bird so fine.
Chee, chee, chee.

Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife,
Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings,
Passing at home a patient life,
Broods in the grass while her husband sings,
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Brood, kind creature; you need not fear
Thieves and robbers while I am here.
Chee, chee, chee.

Modest and shy as a nun is she;
One weak chirp is her only note.
Braggart and prince of braggarts is he,
Pouring boasts from his little throat:
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Never was I afraid of man;
Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can!
Chee, chee, chee.

Six white eggs on a bed of hay,
Flecked with purple, a pretty sight!
There as the mother sits all day,
Robert is singing with all his might:
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Nice good wife, that never goes out,
Keeping house while I frolic about.
Chee, chee, chee.

Soon as the little ones chip the shell,
Six wide mouths are open for food;
Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well,
Gathering seeds for the hungry brood.
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
This new life is likely to be
Hard for a gay young fellow like me.
Chee, chee, chee.

Robert of Lincoln at length is made
Sober with work, and silent with care;
Off is his holiday garment laid,
Half forgotten that merry air:
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Nobody knows but my mate and I
Where our nest and out nestlings lie.
Chee, chee, chee.

Summer wanes; the children are grown;
Fun and frolic no more he knows;
Robert of Lincoln's a humdrum crone;
Off he flies, and we sing as he goes:
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
When you can pipe that merry old strain,
Robert of Lincoln, come back again.
Chee, chee, chee.

Black-eyed Susans, Deptford Pinks, and Ox-eye Daisies in a summer meadow...

This winter when all the color has been drained from the Cincinnati landscapes and only cold greys, bleached beiges, and spotty browns can be seen, I'll come back to this post to remember what a the warm yellows, bright greens, and hot pinks of a summer meadow look like...

Black-eyed Susans ( Rudbeckia hirta) and Deptford Pinks (Dianthus armeria) danced among tall grasses in a warm summer breeze in the High Meadow at Voice of America (VOA) Park.

Black-eyed Susans ( Rudbeckia hirta) in June. VOA Park is one of the few remaining prairie settings in our area. It is fast succumbing to succession because the park officials have not mowed or burned the High Meadow in years. Let's hope they do something this winter so the Boblinks, Eastern Meadowlarks, Savannah Sparrows, and Henslow's Sparrows have a habitat to return to, and so we can sit in the middle of a summer meadow and watch the wildflowers and grasses sway in the heat and breezes of a summer afternoon...

...another grouping of Black-eyed Susans ( Rudbeckia hirta) scattered throughout the fields, their characteristic summer yellow drawing the eye in. American Goldfinches flew overhead in up and down arcs, chattering the day's news while waiting for some of their favorite seeds to ripen...

Black-eyed Susans (Rudbeckia hirta) are native flowers. Originally they could be found only on the prairies, but now can be found scattered in any field.

Deptford Pink (Dianthus armeria) is not a native wildflower. It was introduced from England but has naturalized throughout Ohio. The flower petals have shaggy edges and are covered in white spots.

The Ox-eye Daisy (Chrysanthemum leucanthemum) is also a European import. I remember I was surprised when I read that years ago. I always had thought it a native because it's such a part of summer...

...a video of a field of Black-eyed Susans, Deptford Pink Dianthus, and Ox-eye Daisies swaying in a warm summer breeze in June. Not a lot of action, but the day was so perfect I videoed the scene so I could come back to it in winter for a reminder of what's waiting on the other side of the grey and cold days...

For more of that summery meadow feeling:

Click here for a post on a Savannah Sparrow from the same day.

Click here for a post on Red-winged Blackbirds from the same day.

Click here for a post on Eastern Meadowlarks from the same day.

An Eastern Meadowlark in a summer meadow...

I found an online version of "The Complete Prose Works of Walt Whitman" today and read a few passages out of "Specimen Days" (click here for a link to the online version of this book). If you jump to page 196, you'll find the following entry for March 16, "A Meadow Lark:"

March 16.—Fine, clear, dazzling morning, the sun an hour high, the air just tart enough. What a stamp in advance my whole day receives from the song of that meadow lark perch’d on a fence-stake twenty rods distant! Two or three liquid-simple notes, repeated at intervals, full of careless happiness and hope. With its peculiar shimmering slow progress and rapid-noiseless action of the wings, it flies on a way, lights on another stake, and so on to another, shimmering and singing many minutes.

It was such a beautiful entry and reminded me of an encounter with an Eastern Meadowlark I had this summer at Voice of America (VOA) Park. I went back to look at the photos I took, and decided this time around they were good enough to post. Back in June, when the living was easy, and the birds were lit by warm sunlight, I was a lot pickier. These photos didn't make the cut back then, but now......after weeks of gray clouds and rain, those happy, summery, blurry yellow chest feathers look just fine to me...

...an Eastern Meadowlark sings sweetly at VOA Park in West Chester, Ohio.

It was beautiful day when this Eastern Meadowlark sang out his song. I remember wanting to lock the feelings in...it was warm, sunny, and breezy, and lots of Bobolinks, Red-winged Blackbirds and Meadowlarks sang from every corner of the meadow. All the birds were busy sitting on nests or feeding babies, and insects buzzed nonstop. A breeze whipped the June energy through the grasses...and the daisies, Black-eyed Suzans, and hot pink Dianthus nodded approval with each gust. Summer was at full tilt, and it was a perfect day.

Eastern Meadowlarks are short-distance migrants and can be found year-round at VOA, but the birds you see perched amid falling snowflakes in the winter may not be the same birds braving the heat in the summer. Many of our wintering meadowlarks will migrate further north for the breeding season and will be replaced by more southern birds completing their short-distance migration, so this bird and the birds that are at the park now, are probably not the same.