They never migrate. They are omnipresent. Their maddening call pierces the night air and echoes throughout the day. I am convinced they must mate at an alarming rate. It seems hundreds of new birds hatch each day and join the cacophony of the city. If I may, I would would to try to recreate their high-pitched, high-decibel shrieking:
Ooowee! Ooowee! Ooowee! Weeooo! Weeooo! Weeooo! Eeeee! Eeeee! Eeeee! Whooeep! Whooeep! Whooeep! Beeeep! Beeeep! Beeeep!
This sequence repeats until the creature either gets tired or dies, I'm not sure which. We recently listened to one screech for 18 hours straight. This one didn't tire or die. A passerby finally reached the breaking point and killed it.
These birds prefer to nest in crowded parking garages (unfortunately our apartment happens to back up to one of the busiest in town.) When one chirps, they all join in and at times, the air is filled with nothing but their frenzied twittering.
This species is not native to the region. Their introduction to the country was somewhat of a government mandate. They were imported in great numbers to protect the citizens of Montevideo from an increase in theft. However, as with most government-sponsored solutions, this one is completely out of hand. There is no solution to the solution that has become a huge problem. I would even do my part if officials called for a mass extermination of these useless creatures.
Before you get your PETA panties in a knot, the songbirds I refer to are of the genus autophila alarmica--the common car alarm.
The good news is, the din from the two construction sites directly adjacent to our apartment building has all but eclipsed the sound of the songbirds. It gets better. Our lease isn't up for another six months. Ain't life a kick in the pants?