Earth Almanac: September/October 2008

Fruity Favorites

Throughout most of the East and much of the West, dense thickets of American plum shrubs are the candy-stocked closets in which countless species of birds and mammals feast in safety before their long winter naps, fasts, or southward flights. To the human palate the red-skinned, yellow-fleshed fruit is somewhat bitter when eaten raw, but baked with sugar it can be made into delicious jams, jellies, and fruit roll-ups. And, as American Indians discovered long ago, it can be dried for future use.

Concoctions made from the root bark have been and, to some extent, still are used as a mouthwash to treat oral sores, an astringent and disinfectant for skin lacerations, a cough syrup, and a diuretic to ease kidney and bladder ailments. Superb brooms can be fashioned by binding together the tough, elastic twigs. And while virtually all American plums are planted to attract wildlife or as ornamentals, they are widely used as rootstock for cultivated plums.

Sam Who?

When hardwood leaves glow yellow and scarlet, white-throated sparrows retreat to the sunny south. For some—especially adult males— this may mean Nova Scotia and Ontario. You’ll see or hear whitethroats most anywhere in the East and along our entire West Coast. Immature and first-year females tend to migrate farther south. Winter groups, which may number as many as 50 birds, form dominance hierarchies and often mix with other sparrows. Watch as they kick and scratch for seeds. (They’re especially fond of cracked corn.) And listen for the plaintive, melodious song; unlike that of most birds, it’s delivered during fall and winter and by day as well as night (in French Canada the whitethroat is called rossignol, or “nightingale”).

According to Peterson’s Birding by Ear tapes, “New Englanders represent the white-throated sparrow’s song as Oh, Sam Peabody, Peabody, Peabody, while their neighbors north of the border use Oh, sweet Canada, Canada, Canada.” (With that the narrator offers this revelation: “Obviously, the bird is saying neither.”) John James Audubon extolled yet another, if no longer legally enjoyed, virtue of this silver-throated, cold-weather visitor: “It is a plump bird, fattening almost to excess, whilst in Louisiana, and affords delicious eating.”