How the robin became the state bird (and why not everyone is on board)

Look closely in the corner of the official state of Michigan map and amid pictures of a dozen other animals and plants -- a brook trout, an apple blossom, a white pine tree – sits a brown and orange American Robin, the state bird. If some folks had their way, another bird should be there instead.

State birds (or state fish, trees and even reptiles) are an oddity dating back to the 1920s, when the General Federation of Women’s Clubs began pushing for them. Kentucky was first, naming the Northern Cardinal, in 1926. Michigan’s House approved a resolution adopting the robin as the state bird on April 8, 1931.

As a point of pride, a nod to history or a tourist draw, some state birds make more intuitive sense than Michigan’s. Utah’s California Gulls are celebrated for their role in eating the crickets that were threatening crops in 1848. Hawaii’s Nenes are endemic to the islands and listed as endangered. Maryland has been associated with Baltimore Orioles as far back as the late 1600s.

The American Robin has no such special tie to Michigan. Wisconsin and Connecticut also claim it as their own. Its popularity seems to be a product of familiarity and old patterns, back when a robin in the front yard was thought to be a sure sign of spring in cold Michigan. In 1929 when the Michigan Audubon Society held a statewide contest to name a state bird, the robin was the top vote-getter among the nearly 200,000 people who took part. It beat out another ubiquitous bird, the Black-capped Chickadee.

As journalist Amy Elliott Bragg chronicled in her blog The Night Train in 2019, Michigan Audubon Society president Edith Munger, who was overseeing the vote, was disappointed that the robin’s proponents for the most part did not cite particular reasons for their choice and she wanted a re-vote. Munger, Bragg wrote, told the Detroit Free Press in 1929 that, “I have been more and more convinced that the result would have been different if those who voted — particularly the children — had had the benefit of nature study as it pertains to birds,” and added, “Much as the robin is loved by many, I feel that after a course of nature study those who might vote again would so change their vote that the robin would not be returned the winner, but that rather this honor would go to a bird more closely allied with the outdoor life of our state.”

But the robin stood. The 1931 House resolution making it official noted that the robin is “the best known and best loved of all the birds” in the state. Eventually it came to play a starring role in the state’s promotional efforts. Before “Pure Michigan,” there were the lapel pins with cheery cartoon robins, one holding a fishing pole, another with wings opened, proclaiming Michigan as the “Land of Hospitality.”

But even then there were forces agitating for dethroning the robin in favor of a truly Michigan-unique bird, the Kirtland’s Warbler. The tiny songbird with the blue-gray back and head and yellow breast – endangered for more than 50 years up until 2019 – nests almost exclusively in Michigan (Wisconsin and Ontario also have small populations).

In the 1960s, the state’s Audubon Society – with the support of several lawmakers – began pushing the Kirtland’s Warbler as a replacement for the robin. Other legislative efforts – none successful, so far – followed in 1976, in 2003, in 2022. The arguments for the Kirtland’s boil down to its uniqueness to the state, the economic value it drives as birders travel here to see it, and the conservation success story that could be told around it.

Not everyone is on board with the Kirtland’s. In between the campaigns for the Kirtland’s, legislative lobbying for the Black-capped Chickadee’s cause surfaced again in 1992, in 2000, and in 2005, with the argument that unlike the robin -- or the Bahamas-migrating Kirtland’s, for that matter – chickadees are here year-round. (That’s actually true of the robin, as well; these days birders will be quick to tell you that robins are found year-round in many parts of the state, and even up north; a birder counted 15 on the Sutton’s Bay boardwalk on Jan. 2.)

There have been efforts in other states to change the state birds, most recently in Florida, where some lawmakers would prefer the American Flamingo and Florida scrub-jay over the current Northern Mockingbird. The conversations have been driven by the booming number of birders in recent years. The popularity of the app eBird has added much more data to help inform the debate. The arguments are largely around moving away from the backyard birds (like the American Robin and Northern Cardinal) that are so popular in many states, toward choices that are unique to each place.

Will Michigan make a change? What’s your vote?