My Big Days

The annual World Series of Birding is on Saturday, May 9, this year. 

Ornithologist Ludlow Griscom and his protege, Roger Tory Peterson of the influential field guides, were among the first to popularize using binoculars rather than guns to study birds in the field. They were also among the first to popularize the concept of the Big Day.

(RE Berg-Andersson)

The Big Day is a sort of endurance test - how many different types of birds can a person see in a day. It is a very American thing to do to prove to others (and yourself) just how good you are in finding and identifying birds. Some Big Days take place in popular places such as New York's Central Park and Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx. Others can take place in your backyard.

Others take it to extremes, such as the three birders whose quest to see as many birds as possible in a year was made into a book and then a movie. Birding thus became another extreme sport instead of the walk in the park I enjoy. As I've said elsewhere, this isn't birding, it's listing. The bird's beauty is ignored, it is just a name ticked off on a chart.

Pete Dunne - not an ornithologist by his own admission - came up with the idea of marrying the Big Day with promoting citizen science. He called it the World Series of Birding, and it really took off when he got Roger Tory Peterson to come to Cape May, N.J., and ride with him and his team. 

The birds recorded during the World Series are reported to the organizations that study birds, including Cornell's Ornithology Lab and Audubon. This way they know which birds are thriving and where, and which are in decline.

But then nature- or conservation-oriented organizations realized a way to, in effect, cash in on the World Series in the name of citizen science. They asked people to donate funds based on how many birds the organizations' teams found, either per bird or in total. The funds would go to support the organizations' work. 

One example is the Land Conservancy of New Jersey, of which I am a member. I got the mailing below.

(Margo D. Beller)

The concept has become so popular the Cornell people expanded it to the world - literally. There is now a Global Big Day on the same day as the World Series of Birding.

As usual, this birder flies solo. I don't count the number of particular birds I find and I like to walk alone quietly. I avoid birding on the Saturday of the World Series because I don't want to run into teams of people rushing through with their checklists in an area where I am trying to bird.

However, early May is the height of northbound migration, when the birds are heading to their breeding territories. Now that I am retired I have the time to go out on a weekday morning and avoid the weekend birders. Thus I have been undergoing my own endurance test for the past two weeks, rising early most weekdays to visit some of my favorite places within easy driving distance (mindful of the rush hour traffic I will hit on the way home). 

One day is my own version of the "World Series of Birding" and it usually takes place in early May. That is when my husband (MH) drives us to the western edge of New Jersey, where the Delaware River flows, and we change places so I can slowly drive along Old Mine Road, an area of forest and high elevation. Many of the birds I want to see nest in this area and they all are singing as they proclaim their territories in preparation for mating and raising a brood. 

This place draws a large number of birds that would otherwise not be found elsewhere in New Jersey, as well as a large number of birders. 

A remnant of the former community on Old Mine Road
(RE Berg-Andersson)

There used to be homes along this road. But after too many floods the federal government decided there should be a dam across what is now Tocks Island. There was controversy over the dam, but unlike the fight to preserve Great Swamp from becoming an airport this fight was not successful for most of the people. They had to move, leaving their homes to be flooded.

Except the project was shelved in 1975, deemed too expensive. You can still see many of the abandoned homes, windows broken, covered in graffiti, on the verge of falling down like the barn shown above. (That picture is from a few years ago; as of May 4, 2026, more of the barn has come down). The homes of those who continued fighting to stay were grandfathered into the national park.

In summer people flock to this area where once there was a community to swim in the river or picnic. MH and I come before it gets too hot, buggy and crowded. During Covid, when very few federal parks were open, Old Mine Road was very popular. Lots were completely packed. At one the cars nearly spilled out into the road. 

That lot and several others are now blocked, no doubt because of erosion on the paths leading to the river that was caused by hundreds of pairs of feet.

Old Mine Road is where I do all the bad driving I accuse others of doing on the highways. Right hand on the wheel, left hand holding Merlin near the open window, stopping suddenly every time I hear something. MH knows I am going to do this and only grows testy when he wants me to pull over for the sandwiches I packed for lunch. 

Eventually, my stamina falters and I drive a little faster to get to the end. My head says to stop at every dirt path to hear what birds are around, but my body (and MH) tells me it is getting late. Five hours on one stretch of road goes by amazingly fast.

Near the end of the road we stop and MH takes over the driving.

Intrepid birder (me) on Old Mine Road a few years ago
(RE Berg-Andersson)

I enjoy all the birds I have found during these past two weeks, particularly the mornings after "big flight" nights when southwest winds and lack of rain brought thousands of birds northward. But finding the colorful challenges known as warblers is the main reason I go out in the early dawn hours in May.

This year at Old Mine Road the big search was for a Swainson's warbler - a bird of the south that prefers to stay low in brush where no one can see it. (I saw one - blink and you'll miss it - when we were in Florida in 2010.) We stopped at the stakeout but, as I expected, we allegedly "just missed it" because it was now deep in the brush off the road. But I heard something I had come to hear - the Cerulean warbler. As the name implies it is sky blue. It is also a bird, like too many others, whose population has declined due to habitat loss. 

Usually we are lucky if we can hear the buzzy trill of one Cerulean. This year we heard six. That made our trip a very Big Day for me. 

And Then There Were Two

Since my last post I haven't spent much time in the yard because it is migration time. I've risen early and gone places at various distances from my home, usually without eating. The early birder gets the birds as they look for food. Then I come home around 9 a.m. for my own breakfast. In good weather I take my food out to my enclosed porch and sit so I can watch the house wren nest box.

In a previous post I mentioned hearing the first house wren on April 19, 2025.  Exactly one year later, a male house wren started singing in the yard, two days after I put up the box. But things never seem to go as planned with these birds. After a day of seeing it around the box, the wren seemingly left.

Then, according to my notes, on Thursday, April 23, as I pulled the car out of the garage to go off one early morning, I heard a house wren singing very close, which meant it was on the opposite side of the yard from where the nest box hung. Was this the same wren or a different one?

The tell-tale stick telling other wrens this box is taken.
April 28, 2026 (Margo D. Beller)

I got my answer the next day when the house wren male continually sang from different parts of the yard as I ate my breakfast. Then it came to fuss over the box, bringing in a few sticks to give a prospective mate the idea that this would make a good spot for her nest. But I saw no second house wren that day and he soon left. 

On Saturday, April 25, it rained buckets for about 12 hours. The next day I could see the box had gotten plenty wet. I hoped it was dry inside. I saw no activity that day but I heard the male house wren singing almost continually, advertising his availability to any female.

Finally, on April 27, I saw a second wren come to the box. To me all house wrens look alike - they have no difference in size or color. The only way I could tell which was which was the male sat on a branch above the box and sang a bit while the female silently examined the box inside and outside. Then the two flew off together.

"So he has a mate," I thought. 

When I was next on the porch I saw the tell-tale stick coming out from the bottom of the box. That stick means that "this nest is taken."

This is far from new activity. I've been writing about house wrens since at least 2011. When I provide a box they have come every year, no matter which tree I securely hang it in. Every year they do the same thing - look at the box, decide to take the box, create a nest, defend it, raise young, leave with them once they can fly. To me this never gets old. 

Today, resting after hours of birding, I sat on the porch and watched the female furiously adding more sticks to the box. The male sang nearby as she worked on her nest. It is interesting to watch her bring a stick and then try to figure out how to get it into the box. Sometimes the stick is dropped. Sometimes it is broken. Eventually she figured out she can turn her head and put the stick in that way. 

I don't see the male as she does this but I can certainly hear him. He is still singing his loud territorial call. He'll continue to do that until eggs are laid. Then he will sing more softly so as not to call attention to the nest. To me it sounds like the call is intended to assure his mate he is around to defend the nest or tell her he'll watch things while she gets some food for herself.

This 2018 picture of the wren nest I cleared from the box
gives you an indication of what's in there, mainly done by the female.
(Margo D. Beller)

When she took a break from her nest-making labors she stood for a while on top of the nest box. She then flew down to nearby bushes where she can find what she needs, be it sticks or food. 

Every year when the nest is done and the wrens - which pair only for breeding and then separate - have gone south in the fall, I empty the box to clean it. Every year I am amazed at how tightly packed the stick nest is inside. The wrens usually have a brood of three chicks. That's a lot of birds jammed into what looks like a small box. But house wrens are small birds, particularly when just hatched.

Aside from those few sticks the male put in to "stage" the box, the female does all the work building the nest. He won't enter the box again except when the chicks are born and he helps her feed them and remove the poop.

She could be sitting on eggs as early as this weekend. And then things will really get interesting.

Spruce Makes a Discovery

Early in the morning the birds are calling. They are proclaiming their territories as they search for food and a mate. If that is when they call then that is when I go outside on my back patio with the Merlin app on my phone to hear what's out there.

A blowup of this year's tenant getting the box ready as I photographed the
blooming dogwood. (Margo D. Beller)

Things continue to bloom in the garden. While the daffodils and forsythia have faded, the peony and lillies are growing, as are the hellebore's foliage, the spreading lily of the valley and the hostas in their pots. The andromeda bushes are covered in white bells the bees investigate, the apple tree I'm monitoring is covered in blossoms and the dogwood buds have opened to produce pink flowers for another year.

Unfortunately, the weeds are also flowering - garlic mustard, dandelions and, the bane of my existence, ground ivy. There are many others, including some growing in places it will be hard for me to get at.

Blooming andromeda bush (Margo D. Beller)

When I am walking around the yard with the phone I usually say good morning to Spruce Bringsgreen, the silver spruce we planted in 2007. Spruce is at his full height and, at 19, has been producing cones for the past ten years. 

This time, Spruce spoke first.

"Margo," he said, "this morning I saw there's a house wren going into the nest box!"

Yes, I said, I know. He's been singing in the yard since the day after my husband and I put the nest box into the dogwood. 

Blooming apple tree (Margo D. Beller)

This is our annual ritual, putting up a box to attract a pair of house wrens I can watch from my chair on the enclosed porch. I follow various bird lists for the first mention of house wren showing up in New Jersey. The closer it gets to my home county the more anxious I get to put up the nest box.

The box is usually visited quickly.

This year, right after putting it up, a pair of black-capped chickadees investigated. These birds are the only ones, aside from the house wren, small enough to get through the opening. But the birds, which usually nest in tree cavities, did not stay. That is just as well because a determined house wren will destroy a chickadee nest and take it over - I've seen that happen - just as a determined house sparrow would do the same thing to a house wren were it not too big to fit through the opening.

Blooming dogwood with nest box (Margo D. Beller)

One day after the box went up, I heard the distinctive house wren song. Two days after, a bird investigated. A day after that, the male wren brought a few sticks to the box - staging it, you might say, to interest a female wren. So far I have not seen more than the one wren in my yard but I'm sure that will change when the weather consistently warms and the winds come out of the south and blow more birds to my area.

"He's a little guy," Spruce said, "a bit smaller than what I've seen at the box before."

Perhaps, I said. According to the people at the Cornell Lab, a house wren is anywhere from 4.3 to 5.1 inches long. But, I added, I know that even if this wren is on the small side he will be just as feisty in protecting his territory.

"Yes, at first light he started singing up a storm. Real loud for such a small bird," Spruce added. "I hope he finds that mate."

Spruce and I will know how successful the house wren is soon enough.

Spruce in spring (Margo D. Beller)

Spring Wonders

In the small gap between the winter's foot of snow and the advent of unusual April heat in my part of the country, we had spring.

In early March the weather warmed enough to melt the last of the snow, including what was piled at the top of the driveway. The crocus bloomed, the snowdrops struggled to bloom and the daffodils started growing through the winter debris. In the space of two days I could finally clear the front garden beds and cut down the dried ornamental grasses so the daffodils growing in this area could be seen. Six months' worth of collected brush was put at the curb.

Dogwood buds, before they opened and the leaves appeared.
(Margo D. Beller)

I had time to again marvel at how my perennials are able to survive an unusually cold and snowy winter to grow again in the spring without any assistance from me. Then the temperature again became very cold.

That did not stop the plants from growing or the birds from singing in the early morning. The robins, Carolina wrens and jays were particularly active. Woodpeckers proclaimed their territories by drumming against trees. Despite the cold I went outside with Merlin to do a census of what was in the vicinity. (Two days ago I saw the first report of house wren in the area. My husband helped me put up the nest box. A wren came to investigate a day later and I heard one sing this morning.)

Slowly the temperature warmed. The maple tree flowered. The viburnum and pear tree started leafing, as did the lilac. At the very end of the Lenten period there were flowers on the Lenten Rose (hellebore). The dead, brown leaves started falling off the euonymous shrubs, revealing the fresh green and yellow foliage the deer will try to get at through the fencing.

Spruce continues to stand tall and, once again, has put out cones. He hosted some unusual winter visitors this year - a pair of red-breasted nuthatches. I stand in awe of him, seeing how much he has grown since he was planted in late 2007.

However, the other tree planted at that time, the dogwood, continues to concern me. Ever since having more than half of the dogwood cut down I wait to see if the remaining live half will bloom and leaf out. This year I could see flower buds but would they open? Thanks to the heat that came upon us during the last week and a couple of brief but heavy rain showers, the buds have started opening and the leaves are growing.

The apple tree starting to show leaves. It now is covered in blossoms.
(Margo D. Beller)

And then there's the old apple tree. Last year the tree leafed, bloomed and then one big branch went dead. As with the dogwood, I had the dead part cut down. Would the tree survive?

So far it looks like it has. The tree started growing leaves and, as of today, there are blossoms. Each flower is a potential apple. But I am still watching to see how the tree progresses as the season continues. The pear tree, meanwhile, has many flowers in the upper branches I can't get at to cut back. I hope the squirrels get to the fruit because, as I found out years ago, the branches of the pear can't withstand the weight of a bear.

After all the snow the plants appear to be doing quite well despite the current heat. The azalea buds are about to open. The grape hyacinth is thriving in a way I have not seen in years. The lilies and peony are growing so fast I've had to put in supports sooner than expected. 

The New England aster I planted last year is leafing but I am not sure if the lavender has survived, or if I killed the anemone. I've put the anemone in a different pot with fresh soil in what I hope is a better place in the yard. I will be watching for signs of life. If it is alive it won't flower until autumn.

By which time the spring wonder of my garden will have long been replaced by the tedium of weeding and thoughts of putting the garden to bed before another winter.  

Walking Again

It was with great relief that for the first time in too long I was finally able to walk the paths of my favorite birding locations without fear of slipping on ice and falling. 

Picture taken from the path next to the Whippany River,
the water practically lapping at my feet.
(Margo D. Beller)

Just like last year, the melting snow had raised the level of the Whippany River that flows along one part of Patriots Path. Had I been there a day or two earlier there would've been water on the path. But the day I walked the path was mainly dry, with a lot of standing water on the ground on either side. Where the Whippany River joined Watnong Brook, however, the water covered the path and ice was beyond. At this point I turned around.

I noticed that more trees had fallen since I was last there. The areas that usually flood were filled with water. I could hear Canada geese on the move now that ponds weren't frozen solid.

I enjoyed the walk and hearing the singing cardinals, robins and others proclaiming their breeding territories. I saw three pairs of mallards in the river, a redtailed hawk quietly aloft and a not-so-quiet redshouldered hawk calling from deep in the woods. Even the deer browsing in a less-wet area were a fine sight (especially as they were not in my yard).

If you look closely you'll see four deer in this picture but there were actually seven feeding.
(Margo D. Beller)

The previous winter we had little snow but a lot of rain, which caused flooding in late March going into April. This winter we had too much snow and so the spring floods came earlier when the temperatures rose above freezing and the melting began. 

With the snow now mainly gone from my yard I can walk to the feeder poles and to the compost pile without using an ice chopper as a support. I dug out six months' worth of brush and put it at the curb for eventual pickup. I even tempted fate to pull out the driveway reflectors, hoping the snow is done for the season.

As far as I cared to go. (Margo D. Beller)

The first crocus have flowered, the daffodils are growing and there are signs the snowdrop will bloom, albeit later than usual because of the deep snow cover. The three plants I bought last fall don't look so hot. Nor do many of my shrubs. However, I've been surprised before by the resiliency of the perennials. The flowers remind me I have to start thinking about cleaning out the winter debris and cutting back some of the plants, as I usually do in March. 

As usual, I'm far from ready for that chore. 

Spruce Loses His Winter Coat

I was in the backyard the other morning, checking to make sure the woodpeckers had not finished all the suet in the feeder, when Spruce Bringsgreen called to me.

"Look, Margo, my winter coat is gone!"

Sure enough, Spruce, whose boughs were heavily laden with snow for what seemed like forever, now showed their usual blue-greenness. 

After our late January foot of snow, followed a period of intense cold, the slowly warming temperatures started working to melt the white stuff until I could not only see a good swath of the front and back lawns, I could carefully walk in the two inches or so of remaining snow to get to my compost pile and find just enough thawed area to dump several weeks of coffee grounds and other worm food.

Then, a month later, we had another foot of snow. This time, however, there was no deep freeze to follow but very warm (for February) temperatures.

Spruce in the winter coat he has finally shed.
(Margo D. Beller)

As Bernd Heinrich points out in his book "The Trees in My Forest," conifers including firs and spruces have boughs that point downward. When covered with snow the boughs are pushed against the trunk and the snow slides off ... eventually.

"I am so glad to be rid of that coat," Spruce said. "Yes," I replied, "I am getting tired of all the snow, too. It gets depressing after a while to always have to put on my boots to take out or take in feeders. The sun never gets to the area behind the enclosed back porch that I have to walk, and with all the recent melting by day and freezing by night it can get rather slippery."

"Didn't I see you putting down some gray stuff before?"

"Yes, that was some old cat litter. It helped after the first storm when there was ice, but when the melting started it became mud and left quite a mess on my boots. This time I am leaving that area alone and walking very carefully so I don't fall again."

"I will be glad to get rid of those juncos," he said. "They've been hiding out in my branches but they seem to be anxious to leave, and there are so many they are annoying some of the other birds I've hosted such as the red-breasted nuthatches and chickadees."

Over the past week there has been an increase in the number of birds singing territorial songs or drumming on trees to warn potential rivals away from a preferred nest site. A Carolina wren showed up in the yard for the first time in weeks. Canada geese have been getting restless to move now that lakes and rivers are nearly free of ice. Daffodils have started growing. So have the weeds.

"Don't worry," I said, "the juncos will be gone soon and they'll be replaced by catbirds like the one that screamed at me when I got too close last summer. There must've been a nest nearby, perhaps in you."

"Not me," he said, "tho' I don't mind catbirds or even the robins that build nests in my upper branches they don't always use. What I do mind is when a hawk that goes after your feeder birds hides in my branches."

He meant the accipiters, specifically the small sharp-shinned hawk. Accipiters are accomplished fliers. If they aren't strafing the ground looking to pick off a bird or squirrel they are diving into bushes or trees to catch a meal. The larger accipiter called the Cooper's hawk is another hazard to the feeder birds.

"Well, Spruce, considering the number of birds that are in decline because of climate change, pollution, the destruction of forests for more residential houses and agriculture, I can put up with the occasional hawk in the yard. I'll just make sure one doesn't set up housekeeping in your branches."

"That would be fine," he said. "Is the snow done for the year?"

"Gosh, I hope so," I said. "Maybe the occasional snow shower. But the forecasts I see are mainly for higher temperatures. Anything from the sky would be rain."

"That means when the snow is all gone you'll soon be cleaning up the winter mess in your garden, right?"

Alas, yes.

The Coming of Spring

This morning several cardinals were singing. To me it is a wonderful sweet sound. To them it is a battle cry - don't even think of coming into my territory.

Despite the foot of snow we received days ago, which unlike the last foot of snow has been melting steadily because we are not caught in a prolonged deep freeze, birds are already setting their territories in preparation for attracting a mate, creating a nest and raising young.

A pair of cardinals, one of my favorite pictures. 
(Margo D. Beller)

The weather people say spring starts on March 1, despite what it might say on your calendar. For me spring starts when the migration forecast map is reactivated by birdcast.org. The map showing the movement of migratory birds shut down in November, signalling the end of southbound movement. Well, now early northbound movement is starting.

Here in my yard I can expect the male (and occasional female) juncos to leave for their northern breeding grounds and for the catbird to arrive to raise young here during the summer. For now, though, the cardinals and woodpeckers that are here all year are already making preparations thanks to the increasing amount of light during the day that has triggered their hormones to start working.

Cardinals mate for life, and this year the snow pack has made my seed feeder very popular with at least three pair. The resident pair in my overgrown yew hedge is quick to fly in and chase another cardinal away. When the pair is on the feeder the male sits nearby as the female eats, then he comes to eat when she flies off. Rarely do I see a male on one side of the feeder and the female on the other. A lot of time the female waits for the male to finish eating and leave so she can get some food.

Just after the last snowstorm. (Margo D. Beller)

Meanwhile, at the suet feeder there have been two female downy woodpeckers. One - perhaps older, but certainly more dominant - will chase away the other. When the dominant one is gone the other tentatively approaches. Sometimes she will fly to the food and quickly go back to the nearby dogwood tree. When she thinks it is safe she will return to eat. With any luck she gets enough fat in her before something else - such as a larger hairy or red-bellied woodpecker - comes in for a meal. All the woodpeckers in my area are calling as they form pairs and hammer out nests in trees.

As the snow continues to melt, grass and soil are revealed, giving the birds another food source. Insects appear, which provide protein. My seed and suet will provide a quick meal, perhaps enough energy for the birds to have the strength to fly farther afield to set their territories for the spring.

Soon enough, the feeders will come inside for the season, and I'll be outside looking for the birds passing through on their way north.

Sifting Through the Past

This post is not really about birding. It is about sifting through decades of greetings cards sent mainly for Christmas, birthdays and a wedding anniversary of many years ago. Many of the cards have birds on them, reflecting my interest in birding.

Around the time of my last birthday I decided to rearrange a closet in our home office. I pulled out garbage bags full of newspaper clippings and a box filled with cards. I don't know why I kept any of this for so long. I tried once before to shred the cards but seeing ones from people no longer alive stopped me. It was like they were dying again. So I put the box back in the closet.

Moose holiday card sent from New Hampshire.
(Margo D. Beller)

This time I'm trying a different way. I am tossing cards that have no personal or otherwise identifying messages into a trash bag and shredding the envelopes, basically anything with personal information.

It is taking a long time. As I do it I think of how we used to communicate with each other. Friends and relatives would go to a store, pick a card with the receiver in mind, and put it in the mail. Many of these cards are funny. Some are sentimental. I found a couple sent in different years from a former landlady and a former boss, both no longer alive.  All these cards are full of love in some way or another.

Some cards I am keeping, such as birthday and Valentine cards from my husband, or some cards from departed friends as a way of remembering them.

As I work I see old cards from people who have moved away. I see old cards from people now no longer talking to me. I see old cards from people I don't hear from all year except at Christmas. I see old cards from people who now are using e-card companies or sending messages to my Facebook feed. I have cards that included pictures of my friends' children, who are now grown adults. Few send Christmas letters telling me what they are up to anymore. 

Everyone seems to be busier than when they were younger. Sending a message over email or text or Facebook is much easier, takes much less time, is cheaper and avoids the United States Postal Service, which is always overwhelmed at holiday time.

Holiday letters saying what the sender or his/her family has been up to have long been a thing of the past. I stopped doing that some time ago because except for certain illnesses I didn't have much to say. I don't have the most interesting life, and people already know about my adventures in birding from this blog. I now send out many fewer Season's Greetings cards than I used to. Some people who used to send me cards have stopped doing so, cutting me from their mailing list.

Greeting cards have become an endangered species.

I am slowly making my way to the bottom of the box and I'll have a lot of envelopes to shred. The garbage bag is filling. This task is taking much longer than expected and I will have to continue tomorrow. In a way I am glad to be getting less paper from people. As I get older I know I should start de-cluttering decades of stuff in my house. This one closet is a small start. Next will be decades of clippings from my years in journalism. 

Birthday card (Margo D. Beller)

As I dump these cards I am saddened to think of those who are gone, either through death or something my husband or I may have said, or who use the internet because it is easy to do and takes only a microsecond of their time. I miss the care and effort people put into their cards. 

The human element.

We are in a dehumanizing world. Every day we see things in the news that batters our psyches. In this techno-centric world, getting a holiday card is a physical reminder of connections between us and our friends and family. I miss my departed friends and relatives. I miss those family and friends who do not live close to us. Nowadays I'm glad just to get electronic birthday greetings. 

But it's just not the same.

Opinion: Donald Trump Is (Not) For The Birds

In the last few days there has been a seismic change in the way the United States deals with climate change.

It is ignoring it.

Here is the reporting of the New York Times:

President Trump announced [Thursday] afternoon that he was officially erasing the scientific finding that greenhouse gases threaten human life by warming the planet. The move largely cuts off the federal government’s legal authority to address climate change through regulation.

Following the lead of a president who refers to climate change as a “hoax,” the administration is directly challenging the overwhelming scientific consensus. Presidents of both parties have warned of the dangers of climate change for decades.

At issue is a 2009 determination called the endangerment finding, which the government has used to justify regulations on greenhouse gases. Lee Zeldin, who leads the [Environmental Protection Agency], called today’s move “the single largest deregulatory action in the history of the United States.”

The administration claimed it would save auto manufacturers and other businesses an estimated $1 trillion, although it has declined to explain how it arrived at that figure. The Environmental Defense Fund estimated the rollback could lead to as many as 58,000 premature deaths.

(Alen Hunjet, StockPhotoBoard.com)

What Trump did, according to the BBC, was revoke the Obama-era "endangerment finding" that held that pollution harms public health and the environment. For almost 17 years, the U.S. has used that scientific finding as the legal basis to establish policies to reduce emissions from cars, power plants and other sources of planet-warming gases.

"This radical rule became the legal foundation for the Green New Scam," Trump said, using a term popular with Republicans for describing Democratic environmental and climate policies.

So 58,000 early human deaths caused by an increasingly warmer planet where we've been having hotter summers, more widespread drought and more destructive hurricanes is a "green new scam." 

As an American who loves her country, I hate this radical change by a man who has no regard for anything except his own ego and making a few million bucks for his companies while in office. But as a birder, I am extremely saddened and worried about what will happen to the environment, especially the birds, now that fighting climate change is no longer an American imperative. 

As the oceans warm, the creatures that need to live in cold water have been moving north. So have the birds, whales and fish that feed on them. As icebergs melt, the oceans will continue to rise and threaten coastal communities. That includes my hometown of New York City.

Spring will come earlier. According to Roger F. Pasquier, in his book "Birds in Winter": "While short-distance migrants are leaving their wintering site sooner and returning there later, long-distance migrants, affected by day length, have not shifted their schedule as much. On arrival in spring, however, they find the season more advanced, often to the point where the food they give their young is no longer widely available. Resident birds in the same habitat have begun nesting weeks earlier, remaining in sync with the emergence of the prey they feed their young. The migrants least able to accelerate their schedule are the species most declining."

This was written in 2019.

Birds and animals that once lived in southern regions, such as the red-bellied woodpecker and the northern mockingbird, have been living in the north for years. Armadillos native to Central and South America are now moving beyond the American south, where they could be warm and find lots of insects to eat, to the warming midwest.

Says Pasquier: "The most visible impact of climate change in wintering birds has been the shift in their range. Many species of middle latitudes are migrating less far, if at all, and their range in both winter and summer has moved poleward. Ground foragers can now survive the winter in places where snow cover used to make feeding difficult. Waterbirds are not limited by areas that once froze for months of winter..."

President Trump has done many things to harm many people since he was re-elected in 2024, and he is not much better when it comes to Nature. He wants oil drilling in the arctic. He wants oil drilling off America's coasts. He tried to scuttle wind power projects. He ordered the Defense Department to use more coal-based electricity. He has ordered the Energy Department to pay coal plants to stay online. He has proposed major changes to the Endangered Species Act to eliminate many protections. Once he was re-elected he again pulled the U.S. out of the Paris Accords on climate change. (He did this during his first term, in 2017, but President Biden reinstated the U.S. in 2021.)

His way to "Make America Great Again" seems to be all about making America a sick place where businesses can operate unregulated and with impunity and Nature is a profit center, the rest of the world and all that live in it be damned. 

Even NASA, a part of the U.S. government, recognizes the seriousness of climate change.

There is unequivocal evidence that Earth is warming at an unprecedented rate. Human activity is the principal cause.

Earth-orbiting satellites and new technologies have helped scientists see the big picture, collecting many different types of information about our planet and its climate all over the world. These data, collected over many years, reveal the signs and patterns of a changing climate.

Europe has been taking climate change seriously, because it is the fastest-warming area on Earth. But the relationship between Europe and the U.S. has been changing under Trump. Besides pulling the U.S. out of the climate accord he has threatened to take the U.S. out of NATO and has been obsessed with controlling Greenland, a protectorate of NATO member Denmark.

Ironically, climate change is causing Greenland's ice sheet to melt at an accelerated rate, leading to rising sea levels and having an impact on local ecosystems and communities. The warming temperatures also threaten traditional livelihoods, particularly for the Inuit population, as fish stocks decline.

Trump does not care about any of that. He does not care about ecosystems and communities. He does not care about Inuits or fish. He claims he needs Greenland to protect the U.S. from potential threats from China and Russia. What he really wants, I believe, are the rare earth metals needed for technology, which Greenland has in abundance and the U.S. is no longer getting from China.

In a word, sad.

I Don't Count (Don't Ask Me)

Lately, I have found I can no longer do on my computer the things I was doing just fine before. This is not so much because of any infirmity on my part but because these websites have tech people and I am convinced these tech people must change things in order to keep their jobs.

So now instead of signing into one of my emails with a password I have to click more buttons in order to do so. The way I used to print was changed after the last alleged upgrade. When I downloaded a document as a pdf recently I got a pdf.aspx I couldn't open without a "third-party program." I had to look up how to change it back to a pdf so I could print it.

None of this has saved me any time or made my use of the computer any easier. I didn't ask for these changes, they were foisted upon me.

Not using eBird. (RE Berg-Andersson)

In the name of security, several sites I've signed into for years recently asked me to create a new password. I get it, people can hack into your computer if they get your password, although some disagree how often these passwords have to be changed. I disagree, too, considering the several data breaches that affected me within the last year that did not involve these websites forcing the new password.

So I am more than a little disappointed the good people behind the Great Backyard Bird Count, held every year during the Presidents' Day weekend, have made filing my bird lists more high-tech and less user-friendly. The organizations involved include the Cornell Ornithology Lab (creator of the Merlin app I use), Birds Canada and the national Audubon Society.

In the past I could go to a dedicated site, sign in and then attempt to go through the steps to post the number of birds I saw, where, under what conditions, what day and what time. 

That has changed. 

There is still a dedicated site, www.birdcount.org. But now to report you must use either the Merlin app, the eBird Mobile app or send the information to the eBird website. For this I would have to create an account.

I have no interest in creating an eBird account because I don't care to use eBird to list my sightings. Sure, I look at the eBird lists to see what others have found in particular areas, including my home county. But when you file to eBird it is expected you will keep a COUNT of how many birds you've seen every time you go out birding.

Still not using eBird. (RE Berg-Andersson)

When I am out in the field, with binoculars around my neck, a stick in one hand and the Merlin recording app in the other, it is hard enough just finding a bird by eye or ear without taking the extra step and counting.

Say I see a couple of titmice as I walk in one direction and I then see a couple of titmice on the way back - have I seen the same two or four?

Say I am by a frozen pond where the one bit of open water contains what looks like hundreds of Canada geese (plus others - as I saw several winters ago). These geese aren't sitting still waiting to be counted. Most people reporting huge numbers are estimating, and while they are counting and estimating they are missing other birds flying or swimming around.

I support what Cornell and the others are doing. The Great Backyard Bird Count helps scientists understand bird populations and their health by collecting data on bird sightings from participants around the world. This information is very important for monitoring changes in bird species and their habitats, especially as the environmental changes - the climate change the Trump administration considers a hoax. (More on that in a separate blog post.)

And I can understand why you have to post with Merlin and eBird. Cornell runs Merlin and eBird. It built the infrastructure. Why create a separate site when you have already spent a lot of time and money on a technology platform that can entice more birders into creating more accounts to post their findings?

A cardinal, one of the many nice birds I've seen in the last few days 
without reporting to eBird. (Margo D. Beller)

Why? Because some of us would rather concentrate on birding than keeping count and filing electronic paperwork. 

Obviously, I'm no "citizen scientist." I'm just a backyard birder.

So, for what it is worth, here is what I saw or heard in the area of my backyard between Feb. 12 and today, Feb. 14, 2026, with help from Merlin:

Fish crow, American crows, mourning doves, a ton of juncos, downy woodpeckers, hairy woodpecker, a red-bellied woodpecker, jay, too many house finches, two female and one male purple finch, male red-breasted nuthatch, titmice, starlings, grackle, robins, mockingbird, two white-breasted nuthatches, a pair of cardinals. 

Not bad, for winter.

Survival of the Smallest

When I went outside at 8 a.m. today it was 1 degree F, minus 17 windchill. I went outside to hang two bird feeders.

We in my part of the U.S. have been suffering through a long, dangerous cold period. The snow that fell heavily at the end of last month, and which had melted to about six inches thanks to several days of temperatures above freezing, is still blanketing the yard. Deer and other creatures had started crossing the snow in their search for food.

Black-capped chickadee (Margo D. Beller)

Despite my best efforts, a squirrel had managed to leap high enough to grab the end of the long feeder and pull itself up. Judging by the level of seed, it ate, or dropped, quite a lot. I took that feeder inside. By the end of the day I had taken the other two feeders inside because snow was expected and the winds the next day could reach over 40 miles per hour.

And then the temperature really came down.

Today, the wind was "merely" 15 miles per hour. The birds might not come immediately to the seed and suet feeders but I know they will come, because they must. That's why I went out.

There are not many feeders hanging in my neighborhood. Multiple pairs of cardinals have shown up in my yard, either on the seed feeder or waiting their turn in the bushes. If I see a male chase off a female I know they are not a pair. Pairs sit on either side of the feeder. When the female flies off, the male follows.

Unusual birds may come to eat when they can't otherwise find food. Two days ago a distinctive male purple finch came for seed. He was a one-day wonder. I've had red-breasted nuthatches, smaller than the more usual white-breasted nuthatch, coming to the suet for weeks. These unusual birds would only be at my feeders because they can't find food in their more northern winter territories. 

The birds follow each other to food sources. If a large bird like a blue jay or red-bellied woodpecker flies to my feeders, smaller birds are sure to follow - and vice versa. The wintering juncos are among the first to the feeders in the morning, which attracts the attention of other birds.

One of them is the black-capped chickadee, one of my favorite birds. It is a bundle of energy, exploring everywhere in the search for food. Its territorial song, a descending series of notes, sounds like it is saying "Hey, Sweetie!" Its call is its name: dee, dee, dee. It is in my yard all year long, whether I have feeders out or not. 

It is a small bird that grabs a seed and then flies to a bush to pound the hull to get at the sunflower. It quickly yields the feeder when the slightly larger titmouse flies in. I usually see one, sometimes two at a time.

While my husband and I can hunker down under quilts overnight, chickadees and others are trying to find what shelter they can. They use the yew hedge. They use Spruce. They use cavities in trees. They use nest boxes. They may not even be in my yard but they come knowing there is a dedicated food source here.

According to the book I happen to be reading, "Birds in Winter: Surviving the Most Challenging Season" by Roger F. Pasquier, the priority is finding a roosting site offering protection from predators, wind, rain or snow. That site might be with others by night; by day, the bird returns to its territory.

The chickadee needs to eat enough to create fat reserves that, with puffing up its feathers, keep it warm. It eats and it also caches food in various places it can reach when the weather worsens.

Cardinal pair (Margo D. Beller)

After putting out the feeders I came into my warm house and slowly removed my many layers - boots, long hooded down coat, gloves, wool hat, wool balaclava for my neck and face. Weather like this is dangerous, especially to someone considered a "senior." Even after I put the layers away I still felt weighed down and cold, despite the furnace roaring. Winter makes me feel older than my age, and I know I can do nothing about the cold or anything else.

While I can feel sorry for myself the chickadee doesn't have time or inclination to do that. Its only worry is survival. It must eat so it can still be around when the temperature warms, the snow melts and it's time to find a mate and start breeding more chickadees. 

I should start thinking like a chickadee.