The Redbird, most early American settlers and explorers, like Mark Catesby (one of the earliest ornithologists to explore “La Florida”) called it. John James Audubon called it Cardinal Grosbeak. And there’s no denying it has a large beak. Cardinalis cardinalis, or Northern Cardinal, is the nom de plume assigned by modern taxonomists. But why northern? Is there a southern cardinal against which it must be differentiated? Worldwide, there are 6 finches (in the giant family of Buntings, Seedeaters, and Allies) called Cardinal: Yellow, Red-crested, Red-cowled, Red-capped, Crimson-fronted, and Yellow-billed. And among the Cardinals, Saltators, and Allies, there are only 2 with the Cardinal name: our Northern Cardinal, and the intriguing Vermilion Cardinal, a South American species. But as far as our North American birds go, there is only one, Cardinalis cardinalis, the Northern Cardinal. If you’re birding with Rick Wright out in Arizona, you might see a red bird with a yellow bill that looks a bit like a cardinal, but that’s the Pyrrhuloxia (Cardinalis sinuatus). But no, there is no such thing as a Southern Cardinal. So why Northern? Not sure, really…

One thing is sure, though: our bird, the “true” Cardinal, is easily distinguished from 99.9% of all other North American bird species. (Hint: It’s The Red One!) In our area, possibilities for confusion with other birds are quite limited: the rare Vermilion Flycatcher (possible in winter, but not bloody likely!), Hepatic Tanager, (unrecorded in Florida), Scarlet Tanager (“a generally rare migrant…more numerous in spring than in fall except toward the east coast”), or Summer Tanager (breeds in N Florida, and possible throughout the state). And only the male Summer Tanager in breeding plumage is all red; the others have black wings, or aren’t even red. And when you look up front, they all have much smaller bills (remember Audubon’s name for the bird, Cardinal Grosbeak). All of the aforementioned species are in the ballpark, sizewise, although the cardinal is the largest of the lot, at about 21–23 cm (what we regular folk call 8–9 inches). But of them all, it’s the only one with a crest on the head, and a big honking orange-red seed-cracking bill.

The call of the cardinal has to be one of the greatest hooks for getting people into birding: who can resist a bird that sings out loudly “Cheer! cheer! cheer!” (also transcribed as “wheeta wheeta wheeta” or “wheet whee wheet”)? Another common call is a slow “tew, tew, tew, tew” and a faster “too-too-tootoo” (transcriptions from Pete Dunne’s Essential Field Guide Companion). And the male is truly a stunning bird, singing loudly from a conspicuous perch, red crest flared, super-red conical bill slightly open, with a black mask extending from throat to eyes on the face being the only departure from the red red red of the rest of it.

Last month in my neighborhood marked the first true territorial singing, from insistent and long early in the morning (great alarm clock!) to more interrupted but still frequent throughout the day. The female sings as well, although not as often or as insistently as the male. Her song more often takes the form of countersinging, forming a duet with her mate or, from time to time, intimidating rival females who might envy her territory or her male.

This bird is a year-round resident; there is no significant migration. The singing signals the arrival of new hormones, not new birds.