Forest Sounds Like a Car: The Cool Motor Bird of Pine Ridge​

The first time I heard that noise, I thought someone’s car was broken in the woods.​

It was 6:15 on a Saturday morning. I’d only lived in Pine Ridge for three weeks. I’m in 8th grade, and I’d moved from the city, where I was used to cars and buses. Here, it’s quiet with birds singing. But this sound was weird. It went click-click-click then a loud grinding—RRRRRR—before stopping. Just like my dad’s old car when it’s cold outside and won’t start.​

I was out jogging, and I stopped. My headphones fell off my neck. The pine trees had fog around them, and squirrels were chasing each other. No cars anywhere, just me and my bright blue running shoes getting wet in the grass. But that noise? It totally sounded like a car having trouble. I knew that sound from when my dad yells, “C’mon, start!” at his truck.​

Weeks passed, and I heard it every morning. It always started right after the sun came up, from the thick part of the forest near the old trail. I started running that way to find it. I was so curious! One Tuesday, I walked quietly through the bushes with my phone ready to record. Then a little brown bird flew out of a tree. It was about as big as a robin, with gray feathers on its belly and a beak that looked like it could open a can of soda.​

It looked at me like, “What are you doing?” Then it puffed up its chest and made that noise again. Click-click-RRRRRR— longer this time, like it was showing off. I laughed so hard! It was crazy. Not just a little bit like a car part—this bird sounded exactly like the starter motor in my grandpa’s old pickup truck. The one that needs a tap with a wrench to work. Later, when I looked up car parts for a school project, I saw it was just like a used starter motor—rough, but full of energy.​

I took the recording to the nature center. Mrs. Higgins, who works there, smiled like she knew what it was. “That’s a Pine Ridge Whirler,” she said, giving me a bird book. “They’re rare. Scientists think they learned to sound like machines to scare away animals that might hurt them, or to find each other in thick woods. People here call them ‘Garage Birds’—you can see why!”​

I started learning all about them. I stayed up late reading bird websites instead of doing math homework. I asked old men at the general store about them. Mr. Grady, who runs the gas station, told me hunters used to hear the bird and think it was a broken ATV. They’d walk through the woods looking for it but find nothing. “It happened to me once,” he laughed, wiping his hands on his dirty overalls. “I looked for an hour for a broken starter motor, but it was just that bird playing a trick on me.”​

When spring came, the Whirler called more and more. I could tell boy birds from girl birds. Boy birds had long, loud calls like a starter motor trying really hard. Girl birds had short chirps, like saying “Are you there?” I gave them names: Spark Plug (the hyper one), Carburetor (the calm one), and my favorite—a boy bird I named Diesel because he was so loud.​

One morning, I took my cousin Jake with me. He’s 10 and loves video games, but even he got excited. “Wow, that sounds like my remote control truck when the battery is dead!” he shouted, almost scaring the bird away. I told him how the bird’s voice box can make machine sounds, kind of like how a starter motor turns electricity into movement—all the parts working together, even if it sounds funny.​

Jake put the recording on his gaming channel, and soon everyone knew about our bird. People who love birds came with big binoculars, whispering like it was a concert. Mrs. Higgins started weekend tours, and I got to be the helper, telling people fun facts.​

When summer ended, the calls stopped. The Whirlers flew to warmer places, and Pine Ridge had normal bird sounds again. I stood in the woods on a cold October morning, listening to the last few clicks. I felt sad but happy too.​

It made me think—nature and machines are different, but they can connect in cool ways. That bird didn’t just copy a starter motor. It turned a car part sound into a way to stay safe. Like how we use what’s around us to make things work.​

Now, when I hear a car struggling to start in the school parking lot, I smile. Somewhere far away, Diesel is probably practicing his car sound, getting ready to bring the garage noise back to the forest next spring.