Not a Smooth Flight: The Story of Our State Bird

By 1943, North Carolina was one of only two states without a state bird — here’s how the Northern cardinal got the title.
by Marshéle Carter | photography by Bob Karp

In Raleigh, seeing a brilliant red Northern cardinal is a blessing many of us take for granted. A symbol of hope, love and remembrance, a cardinal in one’s yard or windowsill is said to be a momentary connection with a departed loved one. Another popular notion is that seeing a cardinal means one will see their sweetheart that day. These and other traditions related to the cardinal are preserved from one generation of North Carolinians to the next with anecdotal “evidence” and deep conviction.

It was 82 years ago this month that those who came before us recognized the red-feathered treasures as one of North Carolina’s official state symbols, but the bird’s significance to this area spans centuries.

The Cherokee associated birds with guidance, communication and messages from the spirit world, and they believed that red birds brought warnings of weather changes. Later, the bright plumage of “the red bird” reminded many early European immigrants of the robes worn by Roman Catholic cardinals. This correlation led to the bird’s modern name, and, as a result, the cardinal became seen as a serendipitous, divine visitor by early Christian households, as well.

The Northern cardinal’s journey from grassroots involvement to public vote to state senate adoption as the state bird was at least 10 years in the making. On May 8, 1933, the “Chickadee Bill” (House Bill 1560, H.R. 51), sponsored by the North Carolina Federation of Women’s Clubs, designated the Carolina chickadee as the first official state bird. But one week later, three state senators — Hayden Clement of Rowan County, Daniel McDuffee of Vance County and George McNeill of Cumberland County — circled back and introduced another bill to pluck it from the books.

That was because this cheerful woodland bird is a member of the titmouse family and was also nicknamed the tomtit. Although titmice were — and still are — welcomed equally beside other birds at North Carolinians’ feeders, the legislators feared our state would come to be known as “The Tomtit State” — and thought locals might have a different association with the word “tit.”

The Kinston Press suggested using the bird’s Latin name for those who preferred “grandeur,” but recognizing that “for most North Carolinians the less noble title will be easier to pronounce,” Senators Clement, McDuffee and McNeill led an urgent vote to avoid “the unprepossessing name.” The vote was “practically unanimous” and “came without a word of discussion,” according to The News & Observer.

By 1943, North Carolina was one of only two states without a state bird (the other was Connecticut). That year, Senator Rivers Johnson of Duplin County introduced a bill to adopt the Northern cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis) as the state bird. He submitted the bill at the request of the North Carolina Bird Club, which had conducted a poll of 36 schools and other organizations to ascertain the public’s choice. The Northern cardinal beat out other contenders, including the mourning dove, the Carolina wren, the wild turkey and the pine warbler.

On March 4, 1943, the North Carolina General Assembly voted in favor of Senate Bill 151, Chapter 595. Four days later, the bill was ratified by the state senate, adopting the Northern cardinal as our state bird, the sixth of seven states to claim it. In a letter to the editor of the N&O, reader John B. Palmer of Warrenton congratulated the General Assembly on its adoption of the cardinal as the state bird, stating, “the chickadee, once suggested, is not in keeping with the dignity of North Carolina.” He added, “How appropriate that North Carolina, boasting of about the highest birth rate in the Union, should so adopt a prolific breeder.”

Dr. Ted Simons, a North Carolina State University professor emeritus of ornithology, attributes the victory not only to the bird’s beauty, but to its resilience and adaptability. “Northern cardinals benefit from the habitats that people create, like shrubs, forest edges and feeders,” Simons says. “Ecologists call them ‘urban adapters’ because they’re a species whose ecology and lifestyle make urban habitats very suitable for them.

They probably have had the greatest positive trajectory in their populations over their history.” Simons notes that the nonmigratory cardinal’s original range was much smaller, mostly within the southeastern U.S., but its populations have been steadily increasing and spreading north, west and south since the mid-1800s.

“Today, they are one of North America’s most abundant birds, thriving in human-dominated environments from the upper Midwest throughout the Central Plains, down through Mexico and into Central America,” Simons says. “There are estimates of 100 to 110 million of them across this very large range.” The cardinal’s song — its strength, pattern and relation to the bird’s overall fitness — has its own history and has been studied extensively over the past decade. “There’s quite a range of dialects in the cardinal’s song,” says Simons. “Cardinals in this area have a different dialect than cardinals in the Midwest, for example. You could say that cardinals in Raleigh have a Southern accent.”

And while the Northern cardinal may be a common sight in Raleigh, Simons urges folks to, in the words of his late friend, naturalist George Ellison, “see it again for the first time.” Says Simons: “Try to imagine how amazed you would be if you’d never seen a Northern cardinal for the first time — you’d think it was one of the most incredible birds you’d ever seen.”