It’s a cold January day. Snow is falling in a soft, even pace, blurring my vision like a light fog and gathering on the ground in that stubborn way that says, “I refuse to melt.”
That’s when a flutter of scarlet flitters past, a pop of color amidst this vista in shades of gray. My eyes open wide and follow the distraction.
A male cardinal flits from deep within an arborvitae to the ground below my bird feeder enjoying a mid-morning snack. He doesn’t even mind the other male cardinal that appears on the scene, despite that species’ normally more hostile summertime territory obsessions.
And then I look around, taking in this section of my quiet backyard just outside my family room windows, and notice there’s an entire garden party in attendance. Many of the visitors with their muted shades had blended into the snowy scene, but now I’m honed in to their activity. I feel like an uninvited guest. But I abandon that guilt rather quickly considering I’m providing the food for this feast.
Juncos, which range far into the Arctic in summer but make Ohio their home in the winter, and nuthatches hang out at the feeder, nibbling and darting onto nearby crabapple bushes again and again, nervous and jittery but eating as if they’d never eat again.
The bluebirds, my favorite, bring a soft cerulean to the scene as they perch on the crabapple branches and rest their peach-colored bellies. They’re more relaxed and watchful, preferring the crabapple berries – too good for the buffet table at the feeders.
What I like to call the gossiping grannies gather on the ground. They are soft gray mourning doves that coo and peck as they nibble the seeds the smaller birds messily drop from the feeder above. They seem focused on their actions, hardly noticing the rest – a wise and knowing bunch.
Woodpeckers with small splashes of ruby (on their heads for males and on their necks for females) like winter scarves zip to and from the feeder with strength and confidence, fearing no other bird.
When my miniature schnauzer, Josie, explodes onto the scene, the birds all flutter away, seeking shelter in a blue spruce or an arborvitae, only to return mere moments later as the potential threat proves nil.
Few things brighten my winter landscape as much as songbirds, adding music and color to what can be a dreary, colorless vista. And I’m not alone. The U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service estimates 65 million Americans of all ages watch, feed and landscape for wild birds.
Though birds flitting from feeder to feeder may seem like they have simple lives, their winters can be harsh. The days are short and nights are long and cold. Their natural food supply is scarce or hidden beneath the snow. Insects are dead or dormant. Water is hard to find. If evergreens or manmade houses or habitats are limited, finding shelter amidst rain, snow and ice can be more challenging.
The birds do so much for my spirits in the winter that I love being able to support them with a landscape they can use for food and shelter as well as supplemental seed. Some of my most successful additions for the birds have been the evergreens, including blue spruce and arborvitae, that birds use to hide from predators, stay warm, rest and build nests. The cones of spruce even produce seeds that birds eat in fall and winter. My Prariefire crabapples, just outside my family room windows, not only provide gorgeous magenta flowers in the spring, but birds love them throughout the year, mainly in fall and winter for the berries they provide, but they also enjoy eating flower buds, flowers and seeds from these trees. My viburnum shrubs are also great friends to the birds – providing cover and berries for food.
I can’t say I meticulously planned to have a bird-friendly yard, but I’m glad the plants I loved had other flying fans as well, and the places I chose to put them created a private haven for birds in the heart of the busy suburbs. On days like this when the wind is blowing and the snow is falling and no blanket can keep my toes and fingers warm, the tweets and twitters outside my window encourage me to charge forward until I can feel the warmth of spring again.
