Our bobolinks are in trouble. Their plight isn't as dire as that of our other grassland birds, such as eastern meadowlarks and upland sandpipers, but their populations are trending downward. Some of the problems are understood and reversible, and Friends of Bobolinks is working to help. The organization has just completed a five-year study that raises possibilities for improving the future of one of our most charming birds. We've learned a lot, and we hope that this knowledge can help protect and rejuvenate our bobolink population. 
Bobolinks are blackbirds, closely related to our beloved redwings who bring spring to the alder swamps each April. Like the redwings, male bobolinks have basically black plumage illuminated with striking colors, white and buff in the case of bobolinks, and bright, cheerful songs from prominent perches. There are many differences between the species, though, and some of them make life much more difficult for bobolinks. Redwings pull out of our northern regions for winter, but only as far as the southern states. Bobolinks, on the other hand, make one of the longest migration journeys of any songbird, crossing broad stretches of sea and rain forest to end up in the grasslands of South America for our winter. 

Long and perilous as the migration may be, it is not what makes Vermont bobolinks most vulnerable. It is more a matter of current land use and the unusual history of eastern bobolinks. The species is a relative newcomer to the east. It arrived only after European settlers began to clear the forest to create farmland; the resulting grasslands were attractive to a few wandering birds who began nesting in the newly available prairie-like habitat and soon established colonies. By the time William Cullen Bryant wrote his famous poem about 'Robert of Lincoln,' in the mid-19th Century, the call "bobolink, bobolink, spink, spank, spink!" was iconic in the New England agricultural landscape. 

A century ago, the majority of Vermont was farmland rather than forest. But it was a different farmland from the remaining, intensively farmed fields that are now found in river valley and the larger upland plateaus. The farms of the early 20th Century were small commercial or subsistence farms, raising dairy cattle, sheep, hay and grain. Corn had yet to arrive on the scene in any quantity. Hay was harvested in mid-summer-late July into August-with a single later small rowan cut. Harvesting was largely by hand and by horse-drawn machinery. This combination of circumstances was great for bobolinks; singing males abounded on the fence posts every year. You could count on them showing up just when the grass had grown tall enough to ripple in the wind-and hide a nest brooded by a streaky brown, well camouflaged female. 

The rural economy of the past few decades has altered this scene. Marginal fields have been abandoned and grown up to puckerbrush and pines-no longer suitable habitat for grassland birds. The better hayfields are now harvested several times in a summer; the first time in late May or June, just as the young bobolinks are about to hatch. If you see crows picking over a newly mown field, they are likely feasting on the remains of bobolink chicks-unless the birds were wise enough to have abandoned what would appear to be ideal habitat. Corn has replaced many of the hayfields too, to the total exclusion of bobolinks. So our grassland-loving birds are caught from both sides: loss of habitat from the abandonment of marginal farmland, and high intensity, industrial usage of the better agricultural land. As a result, breeding populations of bobolinks in Vermont, as in other northeastern states, are down by some 90 per cent, and still declining. 

Now, what can be done about this? It might be suggested that we let nature take its course, and that bobolinks revert to their earlier central prairie land distribution. There are two problems with this: first, the prairies are not what they used to be. Industrial agriculture has taken over there, as well, to the serious detriment of Midwestern bobolink populations. While the species is not in danger of extinction any time soon, the continued losses are worrisome. Our local birds are important for the overall health of bobolink populations. 

The second issue is more one of aesthetics than biology, but it should be compelling to anyone who has been cheered by the "bobolink, bobolink, spink! spank! spink!" call coming from the tops of several fence posts along a rural road on a sunny June morning. We'd hate to lose this almost as much as we would the chickadees at our feeder on a below zero January day. Bobolinks are deeply embedded in our identity as a rural agricultural state. We have a tradition, respected by the majority of homeowners in Vermont, of feeding the birds in winter-at considerable expense, and with the prospect of being raided by bears, or, at least, hordes of red squirrels. We need a similar tradition of caring for bobolinks in summer. How would we go about encouraging this? 

The key seems to lie in our fine old hill farms. The soil on the best of these is rich and productive, but the fields are too small, and often too wet, to allow the use of massive equipment. While some of the hay that is harvested is high quality, early cut, to support milk production, much land is also given over to fodder for beef cattle, horses, and sheep and goats. There is even a movement toward growing more grains: oats, barley, and wheat, to supply local artisan bakeries, breweries, and distilleries. If the local bobolinks are going to be able to make a successful stand, it seems that these hill farms are critical. It appears, then, that we need to establish a home-grown tradition, similar to that of feeding winter birds, to encourage the success, especially the breeding success, of our grassland birds (we could also see the return of the eastern meadowlark and the upland sandpiper if we were to do well by the bobolinks.) The single most important feature of this developing tradition would be the delaying of the first cut of hay until some time in late July, allowing ample time for the young bobs to fledge and, possibly, to imprint their 'home base' on their brains to encourage their return as breeders in following years. To this end, we need to work to make this late mowing, wherever possible and practical, as thoroughly ingrained a habit as is recycling newspapers, plastic and tin cans, and helping out on Green Up Day. We have found that the landowners who are most receptive to delayed mowing programs are producing hay mainly for horses and beef cattle. They have the flexibility to mow late, or at least to leave some portions of the fields unmown until the birds have flown. 

Steven Young, Ph.D.