Our
provision of seeds and suet throughout the winter months enabled all members of
our young family to learn about our winged guests and the squirrels that
periodically jumped into the feeding area.
The first lesson was that birds are reliable weather predictors as they
gather in feeding frenzies shortly before storms set in.
Some experts
criticize the practice of feeding wild birds, citing the natural food sources
as most beneficial, while others believe that with increased urban sprawl and
other factors causing natural areas’ depletion, our feathered friends need
help.
From their
autumn arrival that indicated changing weather conditions, until their return
to northern breeding grounds in late March or early April, slate-gray Dark-Eyed
Juncos were delightful guests. Foragers
in fields and gardens where tall seed-bearing plants protruded above the snow,
the pleasant-sounding twitterers frequently joined other birds at the feeders.
We were
fascinated by the thirty or so brown and white birds with crimson forehead
patches and black chins, and some with rosy vests (the males) that flitted from
plants to trees to feeders in synchronized formation. That was our first ‘Redpoll winter’, so-named
because those ‘buzzing’ birds of the finch family don’t always appear at the
same location in successive years as they seek food south of the tundra.
Regular
visitors to our gardens and trees throughout the year, Black-Capped Chickadees’
numbers increased during winter. Small
birds that puffed up their feathers against the cold, dashed from tree, paused,
searched for food in bark folds, hung upside down on branches, and indulged in
morsels from clumps of suet, they delighted us with their antics and variety of
calls and songs.
I was able
to observe them closely when they and their ‘cousins’ the Nuthatches discovered
the windowsill feeder sheltered by an overgrown honeysuckle bush. An industrious Chickadee worked for several
minutes at burying seeds and bits of peanut in the bush’s bark crevices then
carried another away. Immediately after
its departure, a quiet, clever Downy Woodpecker crept up the branches,
systematically retrieved and ate the treats.
Early in
November, a chunky, gray-yellow Evening Grosbeak sat near the top of our large
maple tree, ate solitary meals of sunflower seeds which it cracked easily with
its stout bill, and for two days watched and waited until two bright-yellow
males arrived.
The next morning,
thirty-four of those striking birds converged on our feeders, consumed every
sunflower seed quickly, and demanded a refill.
In March, at least one hundred of those winter show players dominated
the early morning and late afternoon scene with their constant chatter and
seed-cracking.
Each day,
the steady metallic chip sound broke the early morning silence as Northern
Cardinals arrived from the nearby woods to add a brilliant, colourful touch to
the winter landscape. During periodic
visits that continued until dusk, they were extremely cautious and quick to
depart whenever they sensed danger.
However, they merely hid in our cedar hedge during one blustery
afternoon while I uncovered and replenished the food supply, then resumed their
ground feeding as soon as I left the yard.
One calm, bright February afternoon, a male Cardinal appeared as a
brilliant flame atop a tree where it enjoyed the warmth of the sunlight. When his mate arrived at the feeding area, he
joined her and, as we observed, they dined side by side for the first time that
season.
Small groups
and pairs of soft brown Mourning Doves swiftly flew in on whistling wings or
wandered in from neighbouring fields to partake of the bounty. As many as forty of those gentle birds
strolled among Sparrows, Finches, Pine Siskins, and Juncos, apparently
oblivious to the bad-mannered Blue Jays and Blackbirds. When strong cold winds ruffled their
feathers, many nestled into an evergreen branch shelter we placed near the
feeding area.
At dawn,
raucous calls echoed from the woods out back, and blue streaks crossed over the
field. Small birds scurried and showers
of scattered seeds flew in all directions onto the ground as Blue Jays pounced
onto the feeders where they quickly ate some seeds, then filled their crops. With understanding of the pecking order, we
overlooked their bad manners. Also, as
we soon learned, they provided sentry duty, and gave out shrill calls to warn
of impending dangers such as hawks or shrikes.
Admittedly, we wondered about their apparent false alarms that resulted
in quick departures of all other birds followed by the Jays’ swooping down to
enjoy sole occupancy of the feeders.
As many as
fifty Eastern Goldfinches in their dull winter plumage were fascinating to
watch as they approached the feeding area in undulating flight. On one bitterly cold blustery morning many
small birds ate hastily then retreated to the shelter provided by our cedar
hedge. At the same time, twenty-seven
Goldfinches clung to the sheltered south wall of our brick garage where they
were warmed by the sun.
