Christmas in October

Red and green are the traditional colors of Christmas. There are differing reasons why. According to one site I looked at, use of these colors dates back to the 1300s. As the site puts it, many believe the green represents the eternal life of Jesus while red symbolizes his shed blood. 

Viburnum and berries, 2021 (Margo D. Beller)

However, a different site ties the red to advertising, specifically the suit Santa wore in Coca-Cola's first Christmas-themed print ad, which was extremely successful. The green is thought to be related to holly and other evergreens as part of the holiday's pagan past.

Right now, in October, you could say Christmas has come early for the birds.

The leaves of the viburnum in my backyard are a bright green, contrasting with the clusters of red berries that formed once the spring flowers faded. The same was true for the dogwood.

These fruits are important in the lives of the birds migrating south for the winter. When birds finish their overnight flights, they are very hungry and need food for the energy to continue their journeys. When it gets cold, insects are hard to come by unless they are pried out from under tree bark, as woodpeckers can do with their long, hard bills.

But for other birds, particularly fruit eaters such as robins, catbirds and cedar waxwings, my fruit-laden dogwood was like a big neon sign at a rest stop.

Dogwood berries and reddening leaves.
(Margo D. Beller)

The overabundance of rain we've had for most of this year has been very good to the trees and shrubs. This year a black cherry tree at the edge of my property was laden with fruit. At a certain point in the late summer, robins would fly out from the nearby yew hedge and pick off the cherries, sometimes being very acrobatic in the process.

These cherries are long gone. Several weeks ago I noticed the dogwood was covered with red berries. I also noticed red was coming into the green leaves. Nothing much happened except for the leaves getting redder each day. 

And then, boom: A catbird appeared from a nearby shrub and flew into the tree and moved throughout, eating. So did cardinals and house finches that didn't feel like eating my sunflower seeds. One weekday morning, as I was finishing my coffee on the porch, I saw movement in the tree and saw a small bird flitting around that turned out to be a very special guest, a Tennessee warbler - a first for my yard! It was a one-day wonder. Soon flocks of robins started hitting the tree and now just about all the berries are gone.

How did the birds know when the dogwood berries were ripe enough to eat? I don't know but I do know when the leaves had turned completely red, that is when the most birds showed up. So there may be a connection.

Black cherries before the robins got to them.
(Margo D. Beller)

Many plants fruit at this time of year. The yew hedge was filled with soft red berries eaten by birds and squirrels. The squirrels also seem partial to the small black berries that form in the privet shrubs. Crab apples are particularly prized by mockingbirds, robins and cedar waxwings.These are just a small sampling of plants whose fruits help birds during migration.  

And, of course, they also feed those birds that stick around for the winter, or those that stop their southbound flight in my area. So when the red berries of the viburnum ripen, perhaps after a few frosts, there will be food for the chickadees, titmice and other yard birds.

So these berry-producing plants (like the food from seed heads of spent flowers and weeds) are the gift that keeps on giving, both for the birds and me watching them.

Cold Truths

Only a maniac would be outside on a day when the polar vortex is in town and the air temperature is 3 degrees F but the wind makes it feel like minus 17. We did not get the inches of snow predicted and the sun came out long enough to melt the slush but the bitter, killing cold and wind arrived, just as the weather people said it would.

I am not a maniac, at least not where cold is concerned. I could not even bring out the garbage, much less go looking for birds out in the field.

My favorite winter bird picture. Our snow is gone but the cold remains.
(Margo D. Beller)

Instead, I look out the window.

I have been leaving the feeders out for the past week, sure the bears would be finally hibernating. Today I am sure they are because that is what I feel like doing, too. I have fleece over my pajamas, top and bottom, ready to go back to bed at a moment's notice. First, I go to my sunny office, open the curtains for more warmth than what my hard-working furnace is providing and listen to Bach.

From there I hear cardinals outside, perhaps poking around the hedges behind the deer netting for what they can scare up. I have no doubt they have also been at the house feeder. When I looked out earlier I saw a titmouse fly in. It was all puffed up to keep warm air under its feathers the way you or I would put on many layers to keep our body heat trapped inside. When I put out seed it is the type that has a high fat content to provide energy and thus warmth. Suet has an even higher fat content because suet is rendered fat.

In the past I might've gone out.
Not today. (Margo D. Beller)

It is the coldest day I've experienced in years. It makes me anxious: Will the furnace keep working? Will I be warm enough? Why do I feel the deep need to go outside and get out of the house when I know being outside could literally mean death?

There's an advantage to being a "bird brain" and not having the capacity to worry over the whys and wherefores. You eat and find shelter from the wind and hungry predators or you die. It's as basic as that. When I watch the birds in the bitter cold I feel sorry. I think of homeless human beings and those who are forced by circumstance to have to go out on a day like this and work to make a living and I feel pity for them and anger at the weather, the government officials who can't or won't do the things necessary to make the world better, the state of our world itself. Mostly, I just feel frustrated.

I continue to listen to Bach to stay calm. I see the bare tree branches blowing around, glad we did not lose power so the furnace can keep going. I allow the sun rays to hit me in the eyes because the light and warmth make me feel better. Not even a turkey vulture is flying around now looking for its carrion meal. I think of the last time I fell outdoors, slow to get up. On a day like this that carrion could be me.

Another single-digit cold night is expected but tomorrow is predicted to be "warmer," in the upper 20s. It could be worse, I guess. For now, to use a phrase that has become all too prevalent in a mainly negative way, I shelter in place.

Free Day

Thanks to computers and the Internet, we know about storms days before they strike. This isn't always a good thing. It meant that MH, former Boy Scout, was anxious to get in food supplies days in advance. It meant I cooked enough food so I could have things that only needed to be warmed on the stove top in case we lost power. It meant taking money out to pay the plow guy. In my case it also meant being angry about the inadequacies of this house and of me.

After a relatively snow-free winter, we learned of a snowstorm that would hit last night. We were expecting the worst - six inches of snow followed by an inch of ice and then a drop of 30+ degrees to freeze it all.

I am older now and not enamored of being in the road show of "Frozen." There's a reason why Florida is known as God's waiting room - no shoveling although you do have those pesky hurricanes every summer.

Jan. 20, 2019, pre-plow guy (Margo D. Beller)

But here I am in New Jersey. I woke and looked out the front window and saw it was not as bad as predicted and the town plow had already been through. What was 3 inches of snow last night - the totals had been lessened as we got closer and closer to the actual event - was now 2 inches or so of slush. I went downstairs and opened the back door to push some of it with my shovel. Heavy, as expected. I thought of our 38-foot driveway, mandated by town code, and I thought of MH and me pushing this heavy stuff with our assorted ailments.

I called our plow guy. He seemed surprised to hear from me. But he knew, as I do, that the forecast is for the temperature to fall from a relatively balmy 40 degrees F to about 6 overnight. It will be enough for MH to push stuff off our walkways and for me to check on the feeders I left outside overnight. (I am now certain any self-respecting bear is safely resting in a cave. In effect, that will be what I do for the better part of today and tomorrow.)

Before the storm, MH and I had done as much as we could while we still had power. So today is a free day, free in a sense that my usual Sunday chores are done and, once the shoveling part is done, I can use the day for myself. Were I a younger, more foolish person, I'd be out in the field with my binoculars. I know there are many who are outside now, whether with binoculars or skis. Instead, I will be writing and reading or watching the feeder birds.

They have been coming at a rapid clip. I will smooth a path through the slush to the feeders, clear the slush off them and then withdraw. At least in my yard, they will be fed during the freeze. I remind myself that even if we lose power for a day or so because of frozen tree limbs falling on the power lines, we will survive. The birds, meanwhile, aren't free to relax and must hunt for what food they can find.

Feeding Time

Cardinal hogging the house feeder (Margo D. Beller)

Most mornings lately I have gone outside with the bird feeders around 7am when it is light but the sun hasn't risen high yet. Usually a male cardinal is sitting in the apple tree. When I prop open the screened door it starts to cheep to its mate, who cheeps back. It has figured out that when I open the door I will soon be out with the feeders - the suet on my right arm, the caged feeder in my right hand, the house feeder in my left. I go out and hang the house feeder on the first pole I pass, then walk to the other one and hang a feeder on each hook.

I go inside for the water cooler. By now the cardinal is on the house feeder but it flies off at my approach. I hang the water cooler on the pear tree and then walk back around the corner of the screened porch and close the door. Sometimes I stand outside and listen to the birds. Usually I hear white-breasted nuthatches and titmice nearby so I know they'll soon be at the feeder.

Titmouse at water cooler (Margo D. Beller)

Other times I go on the porch and sit in my corner and watch the feeders.

As usual, the first birds were able to somehow communicate that food was available. But once all those birds start coming, it is interesting to see what gets to feed first and what forces them away from the feeder.

One reason I have two seed feeders out is the more open house feeder will accommodate two larger birds, one on each side. The caged feeder allows smaller birds to come into the protective cage (the cage is to protect the feeder from squirrels but I have seen small birds protected from predators), perch and eat. Chicadees and titmice will come, take a seed and leave. House finches will perch and keep eating until something, or someone, prompts them to leave.

A cardinal will sit at the house feeder and, like the smaller finches, eat until it is sated or spooked off. When a house finch or sparrow attempts to sit next to it, the cardinal will force it away. But if a comparably large bird, say a jay or a redbelly woodpecker, flies at the feeder, the cardinal departs. Jays and woodpeckers will sit a while but not as long as the thicker-billed cardinal or finch. When the big birds leave, the smaller ones can grab a bite.

Hummingbird feeder with many portals (Margo D. Beller)

Within the group, there is a pecking order. A male house finch will come to the house feeder. It might allow its mate to sit next to him but if another male house finch approaches it will fight it off if it is not the alpha bird but it will leave if the approaching bird is the alpha bird. The top bird always gets to eat. The same is true for other birds. One particularly snowy winter we had four pairs of cardinals coming to the feeder. The alpha pair always ate. If another cardinal was in the vicinity, the male would fly at it to force it away. Later, one of the others would come eat only to have the alpha male chase it off.

The only other thing I've ever seen that forces a cardinal off the feeder is if it is besieged by a lot of smaller birds that will harass it until it leaves

I don't know if this fighting would be avoided if I had many more feeders of different types out. Unfortunately, I don't have many feeders and all but one are not designed to accommodate a large bird like a cardinal.

Hummingbirds have a pecking order, too. When I had two females coming to the feeder in 2016 the more dominant one would always chase off the other. When a male showed up the alpha female would battle it, too, sometimes winning but sometimes flying off. Mind you, the sugar water feeder has several portals so they all could've fed at the same time and even brought over friends. But that's now how the bird brain operates.

Redbelly dominating the house feeder (Margo D. Beller)

The suet feeder draws woodpeckers. If the small downy is on the feeder and sees the larger hairy or redbelliy woodpecker approaching, it leaves fast. If a female downy is on the feeder and a male downy approaches, she's out of there, even if it's her mate. If two male downys are interested in the feeder, the alpha will chase the beta off, feed and then fly off, allowing the beta to eat - presuming the alpha male doesn't chase it off just because it can.

How is it determined which male or pair is the alpha and which isn't? That's another mystery better left to others to figure out.