On our patio in the Pacific Palisades, we have a small fountain and pond that seem to attract a wide variety of feathered friends.  I’ve never been much of a bird watcher before, but now that I’m observing them often and in close proximity, it occurred to me that it was time for me to examine a selection of classic rock songs about birds.

I came up with about four dozen songs that focus on birds in general or specific types of birds, and my job was to whittle that list down to 15 for my blog post, and another dozen or so as “honorable mention” designees.  There’s a Spotify playlist at the end so you can listen as you read.

Wings up — here we go:

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“Blackbird,” The Beatles, 1968

One of McCartney’s simplest melodies and prettiest acoustic guitar playing features lyrics with a serious yet uplifting message.  He said the words were inspired by his hearing the call of a blackbird while on retreat in Rishikesh, India in early 1968 with the other Beatles and, alternatively, by the unfortunate state of race relations in the United States in the 1960s.  “It wasn’t really about a blackbird whose wings are broken.  It’s symbolic of  black people’s struggle in the southern states,” said McCartney years later.  “You were only waiting for this moment to be free, blackbird fly, black bird fly into the light of the dark black night, blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly, all your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise…”

“Canary in a Coalmine,” The Police, 1980

In a primitive attempt to monitor how lethal the air quality was becoming in their working environment, coal miners routinely took a caged canary with them.  When it keeled over, they knew the time had come to exit for a while.  Police songwriter Sting found that an intriguing subject for a song, comparing the canary to a timid woman who became afraid at the first sign of trouble.  Their track appeared on their 1980 LP “Zenyatta Mondatta,” which reached #5 in the US and #1 in their native UK:  “First to fall over when the atmosphere is less than perfect, your sensibilities are shaken by the slightest defect, you live your life like a canary in a coalmine, you get so dizzy even walking in a straight line…”

“White Bird,” It’s a Beautiful Day, 1969

It’s a shame we never got to hear more from this San Francisco-based group, but their manager chose to squirrel them away in a Seattle apartment to write songs and play small clubs there.  By the time they’d returned, they had grown tired of each other and split up, but not before writing and recording this stunning tune, which was an FM radio favorite of the era.  “We were like caged birds in that attic — no money, no transportation, and the weather was miserable,” said singer-songwriter David LaFlamme.  “We were just barely getting by.  It was quite an experience, but it was very creative in a way.”  “White bird in a golden cage on a winter’s day in the rain, white bird in a golden cage alone, white bird dreams of the aspen trees with their dying leaves turning gold, but the white bird just sits in her cage growing old, white bird must fly or she will die…” (I can’t seem to find the original version of “White Bird” on Spotify, so my playlist has a live rendition that isn’t as good…)

“Hummingbird,” Seals and Crofts, 1972

Jim Seals and Dash Crofts, in addition to being talented singers and musicians, were devoted followers of Baha’i, a monotheistic faith founded in the 19th Century that teaches the essential worth of all religions.  The hummingbird is a metaphor for the Persian named Baha’u’llah, who founded Baha’i.  The follow-up single to to Seals & Crofts’ Top Ten hit “Summer Breeze” was this inspirational ode to Baha’i’s founder, which reached #20 in 1973:  “Oh hummingbird, lend us your wings, let us soar in the atmosphere of Abha, lift us up to the heaven of holiness, oh source of our being, oh hummingbird…”

“Seagull,” Bad Company, 1974

Solid hard rock was the recipe for the bulk of Bad Company’s impressive debut LP, which reached #1 in 1974.  The sleeper tune on the album was “Seagull,” which used acoustic guitars in its comparatively gentle approach.  Said songwriter/vocalist Paul Rodgers, “‘Seagull’ was written sitting on the beach.  Music is about atmosphere, and an effective way to create the atmosphere you want is to actually be there.  You don’t have to imagine it — it’s right there.  You could see the horizon.”  The lyrics, penned by Rodgers, wax philosophically about the cosmos:  “Seagull, you fly across the horizon into the misty morning sun, nobody asks you where you are going, nobody knows where you’re from, here is a man asking the question, is this really the end of the world?  Seagull, you must have known for a long time the shape of things to come…”

“Bluebird,” Buffalo Springfield, 1967

Stephen Stills was entering his most remarkable, prolific songwriting period when he came up with this amazing song on the Springfield’s best album, “Buffalo Springfield Again.”  The original version (heard on my playlist ) uses a banjo in the final moments, but on the extended rendition found on a later collection album, Stills takes off on a soaring electric guitar solo that Joe Walsh tried to emulate on the cover version he recorded with The James Gang in 1969.  “Listen to my bluebird laugh, she can’t tell you why, deep within her heart, you see, she knows only crying, just crying, there she sits, a lofty perch, strangest color blue, flying is forgotten now, thinks only of you, just you…”

“Black Crow,” Joni Mitchell, 1976

Joni’s 1976 LP “Hejira” is a song cycle about traveling and searching, part of the ongoing self-analysis she has done throughout her extraordinary career.  “Black Crow,” with its superb acoustic guitar rhythms and soaring vocals, offers amazing imagery that equates her relentless search with that of the crow, looking for the next important morsel:  “In search of love and music, my whole life has been illumination, corruption, and diving, diving, diving, diving, diving down to pick up on every shiny thing, just like that black crow flying in a blue sky…”

“Vulture Culture,” Alan Parsons Project, 1985

The phrase “Vulture culture” is about a love and appreciation of the natural world and animals, and how vultures keep an animal’s spirit alive by keeping its bones and celebrating its beauty.  The Parsons Project album of that name, and its title track, twisted that reference to describe unworldly people steeped in the arts and the ever-increasing ruthlessness of mankind in a world of stark economic reality: “Vulture culture, use it or you lose it, vulture culture, choose it or refuse it, Hollywood is calling, won’t you join the dance, moving onto Wall Street, why not take a chance, it’s a vulture culture, never lend a loser a hand, just a vulture culture, living off the fat of the land…”

“High Flyin’ Bird,” Elton John, 1973

One of my favorite deep tracks from the first and best phase of John’s extraordinary career is this final tune from his 1972 LP “Don’t Shoot Me, I’m Only the Piano Player.”  Bernie Taupin wrote it about a young woman he knew who had become involved in drugs and ended up committing suicide.  “My high-flying bird has flown from out my arms, I thought myself her keeper, she thought I meant her harm, she thought I was the archer, a weatherman of words, but I could never shoot down my high-flying bird…”

“Free as a Bird,” The Beatles, 1995

In 1993, when the massive CD/DVD/book project “Beatles Anthology” was underway, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr convened in a home studio with producer Jeff Lynne to record the first new Beatles music in 25 years.  As a way of involving the spirit of John Lennon in their work, they used the rough demo of a song Lennon had written and recorded in 1977, and the result was a #6 hit in the US.  The additional lyrics they added to Lennon’s framework referenced their 1969 breakup:  “Where did we lose the touch that seemed to mean so much?  It always made me feel so free as a bird, like the next best thing to be…”

“Bird on the Wire,” Leonard Cohen, 1969

Cohen had been an accomplished poet and writer who began composing songs at age 30.  He suffered from occasional bouts of depression, but his ladyfriend at the time, Marianne Ihlen, helped him by urging him to pick up his guitar as they sat in their apartment on the Greek island of Hydra.  Outside the window, telephone poles and wires were being installed, and a lone bird came to rest on a wire there, inspiring Cohen to write what became one of his signature songs, later covered by the likes of Judy Collins, Joe Cocker, Joe Bonamassa, Jennifer Warnes and k.d. lang:  “Like a bird on the wire, like a drunk in a midnight choir, I have tried in my way to be free….”

“When Doves Cry,” Prince, 1984

Prince wrote this song upon request from “Purple Rain” director Albert Magnoli, who wanted a tune to accompany a scene that intermingled parental difficulties and a love affair.  “When Doves Cry,” by the way, is almost an anagram for “When love dies”:  “How can you just leave me standing alone in a world that’s so cold, maybe I’m just too demanding, maybe I’m just like my father, too bold, maybe you’re just like my mother, she’s never satisfied, why do we scream at each other, this is what it sounds like when doves cry…”

“Three Little Birds,” Bob Marley, 1977

Marley, like most songwriters, was inspired by the things he saw around him every day.  Outside his Jamaica home, three canaries made their nest and were regularly within earshot and eyeshot of Marley, so naturally, he wrote what became one of his trademark songs about them.  Three women who sang in concert with him claim the lyrics also refer to them, as he would ask, ‘What is my three little birds saying?”  “Rise up this mornin’, smile with the risin’ sun, three little birds pitch by my doorstep, singin’ sweet songs of melodies pure and true, sayin’, ‘This is my message to you-ou-ou,’ singin’, ‘Don’t worry ’bout a thing ’cause every little thing gonna be all right’…”

“Mockingbird,” Inez & Charlie Foxx, 1963

The brother-sister team of Inez and Charlie Foxx wrote and recorded this R&B track as a novelty song in 1963, playing on the nursery rhyme “Hush Little Baby,” and to their surprise, it reached #7 on the pop charts that year.  It was soon covered by Dusty Springfield and Aretha Franklin, among others, and finally by then-husband-and-wife James Taylor and Carly Simon, appearing on Simon’s 1974 LP “Hotcakes,” where it reached #5 on the pop charts:  “Everybody have you heard, he’s gonna buy me a mockingbird, and if that mockingbird don’t sing, he’s gonna buy me a diamond ring, and if that diamond ring won’t shine, he’s gonna surely break this heart of mine…”

“Free Bird,” Lynyrd Skynyrd, 1973

Lynyrd Skynyrd guitarist Allen Collins came up with the chords to this iconic power ballad and was searching for the right lyrics to accompany them.  One day his girlfriend Kathy, whom he later married, asked him, “If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?” He was struck by her words and used it as the opening line to “Free Bird.”  Singer Ronnie Van Zant, who co-wrote the lyrics, said the song is “what it means to be free, in that a bird can fly wherever he wants to go.  Everyone wants to be free.  That’s what this country’s all about.” “If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?  For I must be traveling on now ’cause there’s too many places I’ve got to see, but if I stayed here with you, girl, things just couldn’t be the same, ’cause I’m as free as a bird now, and this bird you cannot change…”

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Honorable mention:

“Songbird,” Fleetwood Mac, 1977;  “Skyline Pigeon,” Elton John, 1969;  “Bluebird,” Paul McCartney & Wings, 1973;  “Rockin’ Robin,” Bobby Day, 1958;  “Fly Robin Fly,” Silver Convention, 1975;  “Fly Like an Eagle,” Steve Miller Band, 1976;  “Sparrow,” Simon and Garfunkel, 1964;  “The Vultures Fly High,” Renaissance, 1975;  “And Your Bird Can Sing,” The Beatles, 1966;  “Sweet Bird,” Joni Mitchell, 1975;  “Albatross,” Judy Collins, 1968;  “Little Bird,” Annie Lennox, 1995.

As Simon and Garfunkel sang in their 1967 ditty, there’s a lot we can learn from studying the behaviors of zoo animals and their brethren in the wild.  Paul Simon was mostly being whimsical in his observations:  “The monkeys stand for honesty, giraffes are insincere, and the elephants are kindly but they’re dumb, orangutans are skeptical of changes in their cages, and the zookeeper is very fond of rum, zebras are reactionaries, antelopes are missionaries, pigeons plot in secrecy and hamsters turn on frequently…”

The Beatles sang nearly a dozen songs about animals, from “Octopus’s Garden” and “Rocky Raccoon” to “Piggies” and “I Dig a Pony.”  Jethro Tull’s Ian Anderson is a famous animal lover who has written often about members of the animal kingdom, from “Moths” and “Salamander” to “Heavy Horses” and “Steel Monkey,” not to mention the silly hit single “Bungle in the Jungle.”

I found nearly 100 songs from the classic rock era that mention animals in the titles (and another 100 or so in more recent times), and it seemed like a fun playlist to compile.  Enjoy!

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“Coyote,” Joni Mitchell, 1976

In less than cryptic terms, Mitchell described a strange encounter she had with a restless loner type she called Coyote.  Mitchell was the city girl working all night on songs in the studio while Coyote was up early working on his ranch, and because “we just come from such different sets of circumstance,” there are no regrets that their time together was doomed to be brief.  “Coyote” was the leadoff song on Joni’s brilliant 1976 LP “Hejira,” and she also performed it in The Band’s farewell film/concert “The Last Waltz.”

“Wild Horses,” The Rolling Stones, 1971

Keith Richards recalls coming up with the riff and chorus line as he was preparing to say goodbye to his newborn son Marlon as he was heading out on tour.  “It’s the usual thing of not wanting to be on the road, having to be a billion miles from where you want to be.”  Mick Jagger remembers, “Everyone always says this was written about Marianne Faithful but I don’t think it was; that was all well over by then.  But I was definitely very inside this piece emotionally.”  “Wild, wild horses couldn’t drag me away…

“Grey Seal,” Elton John, 1973

Elton’s lyricist Bernie Taupin has said he really hadn’t a clue what he was writing about (“just random images and thoughts”) in this great track from the 1973 “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” album.  Others say the grey seal is a metaphor for wisdom, and how education comes from life experiences more than traditional schooling.  Still others speculate that the title is not about a sea mammal but the Great Seal of the US, and how the country isn’t as wise as it claims.  “And tell me grey seal, how does it feel to be so wise, to see through eyes that only see what’s real, tell me, grey seal …” 

“Year of the Cat,” Al Stewart, 1976

This song’s roots come from a piece Stewart wrote in 1966 called “Foot of the Stage,” but in late 1975, during what the Vietnamese zodiac identifies as the Year of the Cat, he used the same music but entirely re-wrote the lyrics to spin a tale about a tourist who meets an exotic woman in a foreign land and loses his ticket home.  The song became the title track to Stewart’s 1976 LP, and a #8 hit single in early 1977.

“I Am the Walrus,” The Beatles, 1967

In writing this monumental piece of word salad to confound the pundits, John Lennon drew from the 1871 Lewis Carroll poem “The Walrus and the Carpenter.” Later, he realized the walrus was the villain.  “Oh shit, I picked the wrong guy,” he said.  “I should have said ‘I am the carpenter,’ but that wouldn’t have been the same, would it?”  It appears in The Beatles’ 1967 film and album “Magical Mystery Tour.”

“White Rabbit,” Jefferson Airplane, 1967

Grace Slick was also a fan of Lewis Carroll’s work, and her Jefferson Airplane hit “White Rabbit” uses imagery from “Alice in Wonderland” in which she takes various pills and potions to grow or shrink, much as her ’60s peers in the counterculture were doing with their mind-expanding experiments.  Slick said the song represented a not-so-subtle dig at parents (including her own) who read their children such novels and then wondered why their children later used drugs.  “The White Rabbit symbolized curiosity,” she said, “and while it’s okay to be curious, in can sometimes get you into trouble.”

“Muskrat Love,” America, 1973

Written and first recorded by singer/songwriter Willis Alan Ramsey in 1972, the song (originally titled “Muskrat Candlelight”) depicts a romantic liaison between two anthropomorphic muskrats named Susie and Sam.  Soft rock band America decided to cover it on their third LP, 1973’s “Hat Trick,” which did nothing for their credibility as hipsters.  Said Dewey Bunnell years later, “It’s a polarizing little number. After concerts, some people told us they can’t believe we didn’t play it, while others went out of their way to thank us for not performing it.”  Finally in 1976, the pop duo The Captain and Tennille made it into a #4 hit, complete with sound effects approximating the sound of muskrats doin’ it.

“Dixie Chicken,” Little Feat, 1973

Lowell George’s California band took on a decidedly more New Orleans R&B/funk style beginning with this album and song.  The tune’s lyrics explore a once promising romantic relationship (“If you be my Dixie Chicken, I’ll be your Tennessee lamb”) that eventually fails.  Here’s a fantastic band that absolutely should be in the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame.

“See You Later, Alligator,” Bill Haley and His Comets, 1956

Bill Haley’s recording of “See You Later, Alligator” popularized a hip catchphrase already in use at the time among the beatnik crowd, complete with “After a while, crocodile.”  Following the game-changing hit “Rock Around the Clock” and his cover of “Shake, Rattle and Roll,” Haley had his final top 10 hit with this song, originally titled “Later, Alligator” and written by Louisiana bluesman Robert Guidry.

“The Lion Sleeps Tonight,” The Tokens, 1961

Written in 1920 as “Mbube” (Zulu for “lion”) by South African composer/singer Solomon Linda, it was brought to the US in the late 1940s, where it was made into a folk hit by The Weavers, who misheard the chorus “Uyimbube” as “Wimoweh.”  By 1961, lyricist/arranger George Weiss conceived the doo-wop arrangement and sax solo, and added the English words, and the result was a huge #1 hit for The Tokens:  “In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight, hush my darling, don’t fear, my darling the lion sleeps tonight…”

“Wolf,” Joe Walsh, 1973

Walsh’s signature LP ‘The Smoker You Drink, The Player You Get,” one of the great guitar album of all time, includes this rather spooky album track that perpetuates the stereotype of the wolf as predator who sneaks in to feast on the sheep when there’s no one looking:  “It’s raining in the meadow, shepherd’s gone to town, wolf has finished breakfast, no one else around…”

“Tweeter and the Monkey Man,” Traveling Wilburys, 1988

This Wilburys tune, written largely by Bob Dylan, is regarded as a playful homage to Bruce Springsteen, with lyrics that refer to specific Springsteen songs (“Thunder Road,” “Factory,” “The River,” “Mansion on the Hill,” “Stolen Car,” “State Trooper”) and New Jersey locales.  Is the Monkey Man meant to be The Boss?  Dylan, of course, isn’t saying for sure.

“Sheep,” Pink Floyd, 1977

Pink Floyd’s hugely successful “Animals” album is loosely based on George Orwell’s iconic political fable Animal Farm, in which the dogs are combative, the pigs are despotic and the sheep are the mindless, unquestioning herd.  In the “Sheeps” track, Roger Waters takes Psalm 23 a grisly step further:  “He maketh me to hang on hooks in high places and converteth me to lamb cutlets…”

“Kiss That Frog,” Peter Gabriel, 1992

In the wake of the playful sexual entendres Gabriel used in his big 1986 hit “Sledgehammer,” it wasn’t all that surprising he would continue that approach on the 1992 album track “Kiss That Frog,” which is perhaps more obvious in its allusions to oral intimacies:  “Sweet little princess, let me introduce his frogness, you alone can get him singing, he’s all puffed up, wanna be your king, oh you can do it, c’mon lady, kiss that frog…  He’s gonna dive down in the deep end, he’s gonna be just like your best friend…”

“Dead Skunk,” Loudon Wainwright, 1972

Wainwright, part of the singer-songwriter movement of the early ’70s, wrote and recorded this amusing little novelty track one day after having an unfortunate encounter with a skunk.  “The car in front of me killed it, but I drove over it too, and I think I got the brunt of the odor,” he said.  “He didn’t see the station wagon car, the skunk got squashed, and there you are, you got your dead skunk in the middle of the road, stinkin’ to high heaven…”

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Honorable mention:

“Chestnut Mare,” The Byrds, 1970;  “Peace Frog,” The Doors, 1970;  “Barracuda,” Heart, 1978;  “Seagull,” Bad Company, 1974;  “Who’s Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses,” U2, 1991;  “Mama Lion,” Crosby and Nash, 1975;  “War Pigs,” Black Sabbath, 1971;  “Cat Scratch Fever,” Ted Nugent, 1976;  “Flight of the Rat,” Deep Purple, 1970;  “Genocide (The Killing of the Buffalo),” Thin Lizzy, 1980;  “The Fox,” Elton John, 1981;  “Eye of the Tiger,” Survivor, 1982;  “Karma Chameleon,” Culture Club, 1983;  “Hungry Like the Wolf,” Duran Duran, 1982;  “Cat’s in the Cradle,” Harry Chapin, 1974;  “A Horse With No Name,” America, 1971;  “Crocodile Rock,” Elton John, 1972;  “Penguin in Bondage,” Frank Zappa, 1974.