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.