Winter on the wing

We awoke this morning to a sparkling white landscape, with three or four inches of snow on the ground and more falling--and early birds by the dozens visiting the feeders. They perch on the nearby maple tree, causing the small limbs to quiver each time they land or take flight and releasing little puffs of falling snow each time. Within an hour after sunrise, the small branches nearest the feeder have been shaken free of snow.

Snow deadens sound, allowing me to stand nearby taking pictures until my feet get cold. I see ten, twenty, maybe as many as thirty birds at once perching on the branches, pecking beneath the feeders, or swooping down to grab some seed or suet. 

Four or five bright red male cardinals observe from on high until two come together in a spiraling midair dance of dominance. I see titmice, phoebes, chickadees, two kinds of nuthatches, two or three kinds of woodpeckers, juncos, house finches, even a Carolina chickadee, its rusty plumage standing in sharp contrast to the fluttery masses of gray, black, and white.


I could watch them all day if I didn't have a house to clean and syllabi to write, so I'll watch them out the window until while my feel warm up again--and maybe just a little longer.