Crapulence. It’s a word you don’t hear very often but one that, especially at this festive time of year, is particularly appropriate. Crapulence means to become sick from overindulgence in food and drink. I can picture more than a few people who display crapulent tendencies, and I’ll bet you can too.
But humans aren’t the only animals prone to crapulence. Wildlife, too, can overdo. Take, for example, the cedar waxwing.
Cedar waxwings are handsome, average-sized birds that many folks mistake for female cardinals. Both species have a wingspan of about 12 inches, and have short, feathery crests on the tops of their heads. However, while cardinals tend to be seen in pairs, waxwings typically travel in large flocks. Also, instead of the cardinal’s reddish cast, the waxwing’s brown plumage has a distinct tinge of yellow. In addition, cedar waxwings have a dark mask above the bill and, on the wings, their namesake feature: small, red wax-like appendages at the end of the secondary flight feathers.
A 1950 Smithsonian Institution bulletin so describes the cedar waxwing: “When we become well acquainted with the waxwing we look upon him as the perfect gentleman of the bird world. There is in him a refinement of deportment and dress; his voice is gentle and subdued; he is quiet and dignified in manner, sociable, never quarrelsome, and into one of his habits, that of sharing food with his companions, we may read, without too much stress of imagination, the quality of politeness, almost unselfishness, very rare, almost unheard of, in the animal kingdom. His plumage is delicate in coloring–soft, quiet browns, grays, and pale yellow–set off, like a carnation in our buttonhole, by a touch of red on the wing.”
Refined, gentle and subdued, true, but the cedar waxwing has a weakness. Fruit. The more the better. Remember Bluto Blutarsky in the movie Animal House, piling his cafeteria tray high with everything from Jell-o to bananas and mashed potatoes? Bluto had nothing on cedar waxwings.
Another Smithosonian report—one that actually uses the word crapulence to describe cedar waxwing behavior—relays an account of the birds devouring the blue berries of an eastern red cedar tree to the point where the birds’ stomachs and throats were full, and still more berries sat in their mouths waiting to be swallowed.
I’ve seen cedar waxwings in cedars, and I’ve watched them in other fruit-bearing trees as well. What was astonishing was not just the quantities the birds consumed, but also the behavior they displayed afterward.
Most wild animals are wary; it’s an eat-or-be-eaten world out there. Not so with cedar waxwings. When their bellies (and, apparently, throats and mouths) are full, these birds become downright docile. I remember coming upon a flock of about 20 one late-winter morning. I don’t know how long they’d been in those particular crabapple trees, but they showed no signs of leaving. Not when I drove past, not when I walked back, not even when I stood right below them, watching them gorge themselves.
Maybe they were so intent on their meal that the birds failed to notice my presence. Maybe they were, as the Smithsonian article described, simply acting dignified. Or maybe they were drunk.
As fruit ages, its sugars ferment and change to alcohol. Many people have reported seeing waxwings sitting helplessly, dignity cast aside, intoxicated from fermented berries. Under the best of circumstances, the waxwings recover and fly away; under less optimal conditions, the birds fly into windows or fall to their deaths. (The report “Suspected Ethanol Toxicosis in Two Wild Cedar Waxwings” details just such an event.)
As you travel between eating and drinking events this holiday season, keep in mind the cautionary tale of the cedar waxwing. Be refined in deportment and dress, sociable and never quarrelsome, polite and unselfish. And definitely, at all costs, remember to steer clear of crapulence.
Pam Otto is the manager of nature programs and interpretive services for the St. Charles Park District. She can be reached at potto@stcparks.org or 630-513-4346.