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Why You’ll Never See an American Bird Species in a Movie

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Avid bird-watchers looking for accuracy in Hollywood movies are bound to be disappointed. The birds we see on screen in films set in the U.S. are bound to be exotic species, rather than natives. It’s not just laziness—it’s the law. Since 1918, the Migratory Bird Treaty Act has prohibited people from possessing migratory birds for any commercial purpose, as The Washington Post points out today. Buying or selling a domestic bird is a felony—putting a damper on the use of birds in movies.

Writer Nicholas Lund expounds:

American bird species are almost never seen in American film or TV. Those vultures seen in the 2013 film ‘The Lone Ranger,’ set in Texas? They’re an African species. The doves in ‘Dances With Wolves?’ Ringed turtle-doves, also not found in the wild outside of Africa. The CGI’d raven in this year’s Oscars nominee for best picture, The Revenant? I don’t know what that was, but it sure wasn’t something native to this country.

Instead of using a familiar American bird like a blue jay or a blackbird, filmmakers have to make do with a similar-looking bird that isn’t native to the States, sourcing avian actors from exotic bird breeders.

While this may feel restrictive to a director’s vision, the law has been instrumental in protecting American bird species. It was one of the very first American laws on the books that sought to protect a specific type of wildlife from exploitation. It now protects more than 1000 species of birds. According to Audubon magazine, “the MBTA has saved millions, if not billions, of birds from depredatory human activities.” And thus, an American bird will never have the chance to become a movie star.

[h/t The Washington Post]

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Animals
Where Do Birds Get Their Songs?
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Birds display some of the most impressive vocal abilities in the animal kingdom. They can be heard across great distances, mimic human speech, and even sing using distinct dialects and syntax. The most complex songs take some practice to learn, but as TED-Ed explains, the urge to sing is woven into songbirds' DNA.

Like humans, baby birds learn to communicate from their parents. Adult zebra finches will even speak in the equivalent of "baby talk" when teaching chicks their songs. After hearing the same expressions repeated so many times and trying them out firsthand, the offspring are able to use the same songs as adults.

But nurture isn't the only factor driving this behavior. Even when they grow up without any parents teaching them how to vocalize, birds will start singing on their own. These innate songs are less refined than the ones that are taught, but when they're passed down through multiple generations and shaped over time, they start to sound similar to the learned songs sung by other members of their species.

This suggests that the drive to sing as well as the specific structures of the songs themselves have been ingrained in the animals' genetic code by evolution. You can watch the full story from TED-Ed below, then head over here for a sample of the diverse songs produced by birds.

[h/t TED-Ed]

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Tessa Angus
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Art
Surprising Sculptures Made From Fallen Feathers
Kate MccGwire, Orchis, 2012
Kate MccGwire, Orchis, 2012
Tessa Angus

Kate MccGwire is a British sculptor with an unusual medium: feathers. Her surreal, undulating works often take the form of installations—the feathers spilling out of a drain, a stove, a crypt wall—or stand-alone sculptures in which antique bell jars, cabinets, or trunks contain otherworldly shapes.

MccGwire developed her obsession with feathers after moving to a studio barge on the Thames in 2006, as she explains in a video from Crane.tv recently spotlighted by Boing Boing. The barge was near a large shed full of feral pigeons, whose feathers she would spot on her way to work. "I started picking them up and laying them out, collecting them," she remembers. "And after about two weeks I had like 300 feathers." At the time, concerns about bird flu were rife, which made the feathers seem "dangerous as well as beautiful."

When not supplied by her own next-door menagerie, the feathers for her artwork come from a network of racing pigeon societies all over the UK, who send her envelopes full every time the birds molt. Farmers and gamekeepers also send her fallen feathers from birds such as magpies, pheasants, and roosters.

The cultural associations around birds are a big part of what inspires MccGwire. “The dove is the symbol of peace, purity, and fertility," she told ArtNews in 2013, "but it’s exactly the same species as a pigeon—which everyone regards as being dirty, foul, a pest.”

The same duality is present in her own work, which she frequently shares on her Instagram account. “I want to seduce by what I do—but revolt in equal measure. It’s really important to me that you’ve got that rejection of things you think you know for sure.”

You can see some pictures of MccGwire's work, and watch the video from Crane.tv, below.

Kate MccGwire's installation "Evacuate"
Evacuate, 2010
J Wilde

Kate MccGwire's sculpture "Convolous"
Convolous, 2015
JP Bland

Kate MccGwire's installation "Gyre"
Gyre, 2012
Tessa Angus

Kate MccGwire's sculpture "Gag"
Gag, 2009
JP Bland

Kate MccGwire's sculpture "Writhe"
Writhe, 2010
Tessa Angus

Kate MccGwire's sculpture "Quell"
Quell, 2011
Tessa Angus

Kate MccGwire's sculpture "Taunt"
Taunt, 2012
Tessa Angus

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