The Red-Whiskered Bulbul in Alhambra

Bulbul (Photo – Charles Lam)

This spring brought change and a new surprise to my garden. Alhambra’s brown lawns turned green, trees blossomed, and new birds appeared in the neighborhood.

By Michael Lawrence

They announced themselves one April morning with a cheery, though loud, song as the sun came up. Their sharp, four-note call, which some say sounds like “pleased to meet you,” continued for several mornings. I began searching for the source of this new music.

It didn’t take long. Two vibrantly colored birds with pointed black crests, white cheeks, and red whiskers under their eyes flew down to a branch, gave me the once-over, and sang their distinctive tune. They were as curious about me as I was about them. I snapped a photo and emailed it to a birder friend, who consulted one of her books and gave me a name: Pycnonotus jocosus, commonly known as the Red-whiskered Bulbul.

The Red-whiskered Bulbul, it turns out, has quite a story. Originally from India, they’re now scattered throughout Asia, Africa, and even Australia. So how did they end up in my backyard? They were brought to California as pets in the 1960s. Some escaped and established a small population at the Huntington Library and Gardens. Over the past 40 years, they’ve spread throughout the 626 and can now be seen in Alhambra.

Initially, these birds were viewed as a threat to agriculture. The Department of Agriculture tried to eliminate them in the 1970s, but like many eradication efforts aimed at non-native species, it failed. The Bulbuls thrived, especially among the exotic shrubs of the San Gabriel Valley. Since the region grows houses now instead of crops, they’re no longer seen as a threat.

I spoke with Kimball Garrett, Ornithology Collections Manager at the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles. He told me that when he gets calls from the San Gabriel Valley about a strange bird with a loud call, it’s usually a Red-whiskered Bulbul. I asked if he was concerned about their presence in L.A.

As a non-native species, Kimball said he felt conflicted. In general, it’s not ideal to have non-native species establish themselves in an ecosystem, but he’s not particularly worried about the Bulbuls’ ecological impact. “It is what L.A. is,” he said. Ask someone what tree defines Los Angeles, and most will likely say the palm tree, which isn’t native either. Bulbuls, he explained, are a reflection of how we’ve reshaped the landscape, blending plant and animal species from around the globe.

Enjoying the morning with birds and coffee(Photo – James Pham Fly, Icarus, Fly)

Many Vietnamese immigrants are familiar with Bulbuls from their homeland, where the birds are prized for their singing. This is especially true in Hue, Vietnam. Walk along the north bank of the Perfume River, and you’ll find numerous cafés and bird shops. There, owners bring their Red-whiskered Bulbuls in ornate cages for a kind of “bird date.” Over cups of cà phê sữa nóng, a dark, rich, and very sweet Vietnamese coffee, proud owners arrange their cages so the birds can sing and perhaps learn new tricks from one another. The Bulbuls’ song is good for business, attracting students, workers, and seniors who enjoy both the coffee and the uplifting sounds. If you ask me, it’s a very civilized way to start the day.

The San Gabriel Valley has always been a place of immigrants, from early settlers to present-day Asian communities, all adapting and thriving in their new surroundings. Included in this ongoing history of migration are the Bulbuls, who’ve brought their Old World song to share with us.

Someday, I hope to sit along the Perfume River and listen to Bulbuls sing. In the meantime, I’ll head to Bahn Mi My Tho, grab a cup of Vietnamese coffee, and return home to sit in my yard, listening to the Red-whiskered Bulbuls sing.

I am a lucky man.

Michael Lawrence, a resident of Alhambra, loves to roam the desert and enjoy the company of plants.