Winter Wonderland (2026)

It's winter. It's cold, very cold. And we have snow, a lot of snow.

It's winter. I get it. It's supposed to be very cold and produce a lot of snow.

We have not had a real heavy snowfall in over 10 years, in 2014, when the squirrels learned to jump over baffles and tried to pry apart feeders to get at the seed because thick snow and ice blocked them from getting to the nuts they hid in the lawn.

We have had extreme cold since then, when the "polar vortex" breached its usual boundaries and moved south. (As usual I blame climate change.) But getting two storms of three inches each within three days (with more predicted in the coming weeks) is a throwback to an earlier time when heavy snow in my part of the country was more common.

So I went out to photograph this event today.

The first thing I saw from the back door was the snow, not just on the ground but sticking to the apple and other trees and the shrubs. The snow storm did not end until after dark yesterday and what fell stuck, creating this coating.

Thanks to the snow, the yew hedge was weighed down. I usually knock some snow off the hedge so the branches won't be in the way of the driveway plow but this time I didn't get to it before they came. There are birds that roost in this hedge, different ones depending on the season, which is why I have refused to cut it down. I know the deer will come and eat as much as they can reach until the snow melts and the hedge stands tall again.

I plan to buy or borrow a chainsaw to cut some branches at some point this year. For now, the birds have their shelter and my brush pile, to the right of this picture behind the branches, is inaccessible for pickup this month. I hope to put several months' worth of fallen limbs out at the end of February.

As you can see, my compost pile is also inaccessible. It is also frozen. So that means I will be filling old coffee containers with my compost, putting them on my enclosed porch until the pile defrosts.

These roof icicles are over the back plot. When they start melting in earnest the water will provide moisture for various plants. 

No matter how deep the snow, the birds must be fed. I drag the shovel behind me to smooth out something of a path, then carry out the feeders. I did not have feeders out while it was snowing and so far I've seen few birds coming for food. But I've no doubt they'll be back.

After seeing the snow on the trees and shrubs the next thing I saw were the tracks. These tracks are deer. (I've also seen squirrel, fox, weasel, birds and perhaps raccoon. Here in the expanding suburbs, the wild world isn't that far away.)

Once the snow stopped the deer started looking for food. With the grass covered that meant checking for dropped seeds from the feeders and probing the deer netting for weaknesses that will let them get at the plants. This is why I have burlap covering the fencing on my back plot and have double-netted my two front plots. It is also why I take in the feeders at night. I have seen deer come to the house feeder and tip it to spill out the seed. They also climb on the baffles to get to the feeders on the other feeder pole. (A hoof punched a hole in the old battle, now replaced by something far stronger.)

 

Spruce Bringsgreen always looks so dignified in his white winter coat. But after a few days of sun on him the snow will slide off his down-slopping branches and his natural blueish-green coloring will show.

The dogwood also looks dignified in her snow coat. I have noticed buds forming on her branches, which means flowers in the spring and then fruits later on for the birds. This is the tree on which I hang the house wren nest box. The tree is surviving having about half of it go dead and then be cut off.

One of the things I enjoy about the early mornings, besides the relative (for the suburbs) silence of the area, is watching the morning sun spread light on the trees as it rises. Eventually, it will be up high enough to warm me in my corner chair on the porch. On winter days like this, when it is cold and snowy and taking a bird walk is more difficult, I need the sunlight in my face to raise my mood and help me get through this crazy world of today.

The Wild West Suburbs

It was an eerie sound. My husband heard it through our closed den window. "That's not a dog," he said. I went to the door and opened it in time to hear a small bit. It was a coyote, howling at that night's full moon. 

A coyote? In a western suburb of New York City? We figured it was singing in the vicinity of our town's community garden and woods beyond the backyards of the homes across our street.

"Coyote (Canis latrans)" by Joshua Tree National Park is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0.

(Well, maybe it's not so unusual considering coyotes have frequently been seen in the heart of New York City's Central Park and a pair have lived there for years.)

I have seen and heard some interesting things in my suburban town over the years, especially during the years when I'd be walking the streets at 5 a.m. to make a very early train. I've seen and heard owls - screech, great horned, barred, perhaps even a barn owl. I've seen foxes sitting in the middle of an intersection as I approached or trotting down the street.

I've seen raccoons the size of small dogs crossing what would otherwise be a busy street, heading from one backyard to another. I've also seen raccoons popping out of the sewer at the end of my property.

I've sidestepped skunks, including two baby skunks I barely saw. I've had to stop as a herd of 12 deer galloped across the road ahead of me.

And there was the bear I saw after it damaged the house feeder - and ripped off the pole arm - on a sunny late afternoon in October when there were plenty of people outside their homes. And there was the bear that damaged another feeder and the one that damaged my pear tree.

But a coyote howling at the moon? This was a first.

Like a lot of animals, coyotes, members of the dog family like your pet Bowser, have always been around in New Jersey and other eastern states, where some called them "brush wolves." Unlike wolves, coyotes don't hunt in packs. According to the International Fund for Animal Welfare, a coyote's diet "consists primarily of mammals, such as deer and rabbits, but may also include frogs, fish, and other prey, as well as fruits, grass, insects, and carrion."

"fox" by digitalprimate is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

"Mammals" such as pet cats and dogs are also eaten, which is why some towns go berserk when a coyote is spotted. Usually they won't attack - the one time I saw one it quickly skittered away. But some will. 

As for "carrion," I suspect overflowing garbage cans would attract a coyote the way they do skunks, raccoons, bears and crows, among others.

According to a group called Project Coyote, the United States Department of Agriculture’s Wildlife Services accounts for over 64,000 of the hundreds of thousands of coyotes killed each year through hunting bounties, poisoning and hunting, among other ways of death. Despite that, coyotes are not an endangered species. They’re classified as least concern with increasing populations.

If you provide coyotes with an increase in suburban garbage and deer, you'll see more coyotes. It's a wonder I've never heard one here in the neighborhood before.

I've seen a lot of changes in my suburb. When we moved in over 30 years ago you could often see rabbits and red squirrels. I once inadvertently uncovered, then quickly re-covered, a nest of baby bunnies under one of my shrubs. Rabbits used to eat my plants and occasionally would get behind the deer netting. Now I see rabbits only in wide-open areas, such as the Central Park of Morris County. I see more foxes there, too, as well as on my street and sometimes crossing my yard.

The red squirrels I would see were on one street where there was a large white pine. Between the larger and more numerous gray squirrels and the homeowner cutting down the pine the red squirrels disappeared. But they can easily be found in dense pine forests.

Another animal seen more often in the NJ suburbs,
including my backyard. (RE Berg-Andersson)

My point is the area has changed. More houses, less open land and trees. No hunting except at specified times and locations. The growth of suburbia has promoted the increase in deer and other animals as well as in the predators that eat them. The growth of suburban man-made garbage promotes an increase in animals, like bear, that have found rifling through a garbage can is an easy meal. So there are more human encounters with wild animals.

As encounters go I'd rather hear a coyote singing to the moon.