You know what the best thing about September is as an adult? All the back-to-school stuff being on sale. I wouldn’t ordinarily, but now I think I will enjoy a miniature box of raisins. Does one really age out of the joy brought by a tiny version of a thing that is not usually so small? I don’t think so, and that’s why today we are bringing you an itty-bitty bird that I’m sure you can find a little space for in your hectic schooltime routine. This month’s bird is the Little Grebe (Tachybaptus ruficollis), known as Spágaire tonn as Gaeilge.
As the sun begins to rise on your left, you tilt your head up to bask in the coppery glow. An evening’s golden hour is nothing compared to the flame that dawn brings. Judging by today’s intensity, the world will soon be ahaze with brassy heat. The shallow water of the wetlands before you transforms into something that almost looks inviting to dip in. As you watch the rays glittering on the water’s surface, a small head emerges from the reeds, followed by a compact body on short legs; a sourdough roll of a bird. The russet feathers on their neck, embroidered with droplets, flare a deep red under the early morning light. The slicked brown and grey feathers on their body take on a silky sheen. As they make for the water with a loud trill, you see a flash of chocolate brown eyes, not so dissimilar from your own. From where they’re standing, they dive head first into the depths, vanishing from sight.
Little grebes have many monikers and they happen to possess my favourite name of a bird ever: dabchicks. Ironic, given their wings are so short I don’t think they’d be able to dab if they tried. Another fun one, of dubious origins, is “Tom Pudding”. I’m going to assume it…comes from people eating them? Perhaps some part of their body came to be known as the same? I don’t eat meat so I couldn’t begin to guess which part that would be. One other cute one that is attributed to William Shakespeare is “dive-dapper” and comes from the Venus and Adonis:
Like a dive-dapper peering through a wave
Who, being looked on, ducks as quickly in
And they are quick divers, dipping in and out of the water with nary a moment to shake the droplets from their eyes. Their scientific name is given for this exact trait; tachybaptus means “quick diving” and comes from the Ancient Greek takhys for “quick” and bapto, “I dip”. The other half of the name comes from the Latin rufus meaning “red”, “ruddy”, or “rufous”, and collis meaning “necked”: redneck. Though I’d argue these birds don’t have much in common with caricatures of rural U.S.ians, the Irish name spágaire means “clodhopper”; a person who is clumsy and slow-witted. So maybe…there is something here I don’t know…? No, it probably just refers to the way they walk on land like fresh toddlers.
Though their motor skills on land aren’t great, their swimming is excellent. As with other birds like the tufted duck who spends a lot of time in the water, the little grebe’s legs are positioned at the very back of their body. This allows them to propel themselves along the surface of and under the waves, using their strong, lobed toes, like those of the coot or moorhen. The tradeoff is tilting and tumbling on land, but when it nets you a fish the size of your head, I’d say it’s worth it.
We know they aren’t really dim-witted either because they employ some clever strategies to stay alive. They tuck their little bodies in and around the rushes and long grasses beside bodies of water, hiding from predators. Come breeding season, they lay their eggs in floating nests built along river banks, anchored and hidden amongst the vegetation. When leaving the nest to hunt, they can be seen covering the eggs with weeds and sticks to hide them from any hungry thieves. (And this has the side effect of keeping the eggs nice and warm for when mama comes back (probably).)
It is no wonder, then, that these clever, quick-dipping birds are so widespread. From most of Europe to sub-Saharan Africa, to South and East Asia, and much of Oceania, you’re sure to encounter the little grebe. Our population stays home all-year round and is one of two regularly occurring grebes that breed in Ireland, the other being the great crested grebe. (Which looks more like a heron to the untrained eye.) Despite that, you’ll probably only see a couple of little grebes at a time, even though they are quite common in the waterways, lakes, and ponds that mallards would also frequent. You’ll probably hear them before you see them, especially if it’s breeding season and they’re fighting for resources. The loud undulating trill is unmissable, honestly maybe bring some earplugs.
Nice little grebe, nice little bird blog, nice little box of raisins. If you find you want an escape from the influx of rush hour traffic driving you mad, head to your nearest waterway. You may just see a little grebe, and imagine what it might be like to dip into the water and vanish beneath the waves.