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.

Feeding the Birds

A week after the last snowstorm, just as everything had about melted except for the snow mounded by the plow at the curb and the top of the driveway, we were hit with over a foot of snow. We avoided most of the ice. 

The people we pay managed to make the driveway usable for our all-wheel-drive Subaru when I had to go to a longstanding medical appointment the next day. They also cleared our front walk. That left the rear walk to my husband (MH) and me, after which we dug a trench to the feeder poles. (The feeders had been inside during the Sunday storm.)

The curved blade of this shovel is 12 inches long.
(Margo D. Beller)

Remembering how, during another foot+ snowstorm 12 years ago this month, the desperate squirrels had used the ice-covered snow as a platform to jump over the baffle to the feeders, we cleared space around the poles this time and hoped it would be enough.

It wasn't.

Our snowstorm has been followed by a period of intense cold where daytime temperatures have not gotten much above 20 degrees F and the overnight temperatures have been in the single digits, with windchill in negative numbers. In the immediate aftermath of the storm there was little in the way of bird movement. Nor were there deer or other animal tracks. (Except for those digging out their driveways after the town plow cleared the street, you didn't see much in the way of people either.)

The back path we shoveled. (Margo D. Beller)

There was too much snow in my usual areas for me to do any birding, though I noted what birds I heard or saw while running errands or putting the house feeder back outside each morning. (With the bears in their dens, two feeders that deer can't reach to tip out seeds are left outside for now.) 

Two days later I saw the first junco on the flood wall and the first squirrel climbing down a yard tree. Since then three types of woodpecker and, once, a red-breasted nuthatch have come to the suet. A female cardinal sat on one side of the house feeder while her mate sat on the other side. Jays swooped in, as did house finches. Things seemed to be getting back to "normal" again.

The prolonged intense cold has frozen rivers and lakes. Any bit of open water
will draw land and water birds. But the paths are too snowy to
look for these birds. (Margo D. Beller)

Then, four days after the storm, I happened to look out the kitchen window and saw a squirrel on the long, "squirrel-proof" seed feeder. I ran out on my enclosed porch to rap on the window and scare it off. 

This may seem cruel but I am fanatical when it comes to keeping pests like squirrels and deer out of my yard and away from the feeders. The seed is to keep the cardinals, titmice, chickadees and other yard birds alive. 

From 2014. The feeder on the left is the one that had
the squirrel on it this year. This pole was later destroyed by a bear.
The other feeder pictured is currently inside. (Margo D. Beller)

That's why within an hour I was out with my shovel, digging a wider area around the two feeder poles to make it harder for the squirrels to jump. Luckily for me the snow was still soft enough under a thin crust for me to move quickly and with a minimum of strain. Since then I have seen no squirrels on feeders but I have seen at least three UNDER feeders to get the seeds dropped by the sloppy juncos, house finches and occasional house sparrow. So don't worry about the squirrels.

Winter is a harsh season. In this area what birds don't head south for warmer weather have to find food where they can. At Great Swamp recently I was able to see large groups that included seven types of sparrows foraging at the side of the road on what ground had been churned up by the plow. Winter birds have to find seeds and other food in that ground to stay alive. They also fluff their feathers for insulation, shiver to generate heat, shelter in trees or shrubs and, most important, store food for later use.

This is the replacement feeder pole. It may be hard to see the wider
area dug around it, but it has kept the squirrels at bay.
(Margo D. Beller)

So in a small part of the universe - my yard - I am trying to help the birds. Yes, I have a motive - I want to be able to see them, especially when I can't leave the house. Winter is a harsh season for me, too.

However, I know that little by little the snow will eventually melt. I am looking forward to a few days this week when the temperature rises above freezing during the day. I want to go back to my usual birding places, secure in the knowledge I won't slip and fall in snow. At some point the whiteness and ice everywhere will be a distant memory when the trees leaf out, the flowers bloom again, the insects appear and all the birds - migrant and yard - get to eat.

Until then, I feed birds, not squirrels.

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.

Out in the Cold

In winter we behold the charms of solemn majesty and naked grandeur.  -- James Ellis

This morning it was 14 degrees F when the sun rose after 7 a.m. ET. I had lingered in bed under quilts and was not interested in moving. Then I remembered the birds.

Winter, Patriots Path, Nov. 22, 2025 (Margo D. Beller)

Ever since bears damaged feeders and the poles they hang on - several times over the years - I've brought the feeders in at night. But while I was lying under covers, the birds were in shrubs, hedges and on tree branches, puffing themselves up to maintain a layer of warmth under their feathers to survive the cold. It is why I leave the feeders out as long as possible before dark, so they have the fat energy for survival, and why I rouse myself from my warm bed to put the feeders out in the morning.

Lots of birds came to the feeders today, including the red-breasted nuthatch pair that has been hanging around the yard for way over a week. I did not travel far this cold morning, but one morning the previous week, when it was a balmy 17 degrees at sunrise, I took myself to the nearby linear park known as Patriots Path.

White-throated sparrow (Margo D. Beller)

This park goes on for many miles through my home county. I parked at one section started walking.  

I've seen interesting birds in this particular section in all seasons, and there have been many changes in the topography over the years. But now I just wanted to walk and hope something interesting called for me (or Merlin) to hear and identify. I wanted to see what birds do in the cold. It turns out, the same as any other day - get something to eat and try not to be eaten. In the cold, however, I sensed a bit more frenzy.

As I began my walk, a flock of American crows circled and cawed. Were they chatting among themselves, as corvids are wont to do, or were they disturbed by something - a hawk or me? They circled and departed, but then several black vultures flew overhead. Then some turkey vultures. All the vultures started landing in some of the bare trees near the river. The vulture types did not mingle. 

Among them were six turkey vultures roosting in one tree, and beneath them three deer, in winter camoflage, were browsing the winter-killed grasses. They raised their heads, looked at me, then continued eating. This is a hard time for deer. Plants they'd normally browse have died or gone dormant, and people are out trying to shoot them. This section of the park used to be marked as a "Deer Management Area" but I noticed the orange sign had been removed. No hunting here today.

Turkey vulture (RE Berg-Andersson)

With my binoculars I looked at all the birds and found a roosting red-tailed hawk in a separate tree. All these raptors were waiting for the sun to hit them so they could be warm enough to hunt for their breakfast. I wondered, where did the vultures come from and why did they pick this area to congregate? I can only guess.

The cold kept the number of walkers, with or without dogs, at a minimum so the birds remained where they were as I stood still to watch and listen. Near the intersection with the next road were many birds flying around, looking for food or just some warm sunshine. Robins and rusty blackbirds flew around the trees. White-crowned and song sparrows called from thick shrubbery. I was lucky a swamp sparrow allowed me to see its rich colors. A raven croaked as it flew by overhead. Goldfinches and juncos flitted around. Various woodpeckers banged at trees to dislodge hidden insects. Titmice hung upside-down on smaller branches, doing the same. Jays, white-breasted nuthatch and fish crows called. 

Roosting red-tailed hawk from another time (Margo D. Beller)

I stood for a long time listening, or at least trying to hear over the sound of morning rush hour traffic. (Merlin was a great help in this.) Where the birds went fast, I went slow. But despite my winter gear the cold started affecting me, starting with my legs. Holding the binoculars made my hands very cold, and it was hard to focus the gears. Had I been carrying my stick it would've become painful through my glove. Instead, I was holding my phone, which the cold also affected. Between the cold and the Merlin app the phone dropped to a dangerously low power level. I shut everything off and walked quickly back to my car to warm up.

But I was satisfied with all I saw and heard despite the discomfort. According to the New Jersey Bird Records Committee's list of every bird ever recorded (and verified) in New Jersey (part of a plethora of lists and annual reports it puts out), 502 types of birds have been found in the state (plus five now considered extinct). I got to see or hear 15 of them.

Another time out in the cold. (RE Berg-Andersson)

Today the early birder got the birds. 

Still Life, With Woodpeckers

It is autumn once again. The ornamental grasses and other shrubbery are turning gold and brown and the trees in my yard have lost their leaves except for the red and white oaks. Other trees in the area have leaves but they are fluttering with each breeze to the ground like rain. Even though age has forced my husband and me to hire a lawn service to get the bulk of the leaves and locust tree pods to the curb, today I went out with my rake because I miss the calm I get from simple yard work outside.

Male redbelly at his preferred feeder. (Margo D. Beller)

But though my rake is far more quiet than a leaf blower, the calm was soon broken by the incessant and increasingly high-pitched barking of a neighbor's dog. After I finished, that noise was replaced by several homeowners using the inevitable leaf blower. Here in the suburbs, leaf blower season will last until it finally snows and people will stop caring about having a perfect green lawn.

It is dark at 5 p.m. Eastern Standard Time now, and southbound bird migration is just about done in my area. If the Merlin app on my phone is any guide, there are still a lot of different birds that will be stay through the winter in the general vicinity of my backyard early in the morning. (I usually hear about half of them.) But the catbird, warblers and other summer birds are now far south of here.

Once in a long while I do find something interesting in the yard - a Carolina wren, a gold-crowned kinglet, more recently a yellow-bellied sapsucker softly tapping on a branch of my old apple tree in the dim light of dawn. I like sapsuckers, and rarely see them, but this tree has had enough stress in its life and its trunk is already covered in tiny sapsucker holes of past years. So I walked toward the tree and the bird flew off.

Nearby tree. The leaves will soon be gone.
(Margo D. Beller)

Now, on my enclosed porch and running a fan to cut the leaf blower noise, I watch my feeders. It is not the coldest of days so there has been little activity. Suddenly, a red-bellied woodpecker - the red going up the back of its neck to its head showing this is a male bird - comes to the house feeder for a sunflower seed. It takes it, flies to a nearby tree and then pounds the seed against a limb to break open the shell and get to the meat.

The redbelly, a medium-sized bird, has drawn the attention of the much smaller downy woodpecker. There is no red spot on the back of the neck, so this is a female. She is on the dogwood tree, closer to the other feeder pole. When the redbelly flies off, she flies to the pole and slides down until she can jump up to the suet that hangs upside down in its feeder.

She picks at the suet, then quickly flies back to the dogwood as the redbelly returns to the house feeder for another seed. This is the law of nature. If you are a little bird and a larger bird, especially one of your type, flies at you, you quickly get out of the way. So each time the redbelly came to the house feeder - first one side, then the other - the downy would leave the suet for the safety of the dogwood.

Downy woodpecker at suet, back when I hung it near the house feeder.
(Margo D. Beller)

I don't know why this redbelly is not inclined to hang below the suet feeder as downys and the larger hairy woodpeckers do. This bird kept at the house feeder before deciding to try the caged seed feeder that hangs near the suet. The cage feeder is for the little birds but bigger birds like the redbelly will cling to the cage, put its head in and try to grab a seed from the central tube. It is not a comfortable position for the bird and eventually it goes to the house feeder.

The downy, meanwhile, climbed to the top of the dogwood. I thought she would fly off but instead she flew to the pear tree. I turned in my chair and saw her tapping at the trunk. She waited to see if the big bird would come back, then flew to the house feeder for her own seed. She took it back to where she had been on the pear tree to hammer off the shell and get at the seed. The redbelly, perhaps sated, flew off from another tree. The downy ate and later left.

I have seen downys come to the house feeder when titmice and chickadees make their runs back and forth to grab a seed. But should a large jay, redbelly or cardinal fly in, the smaller birds fly to the bushes and wait for the big birds to leave. 

This tableau has and will be repeated countless times, especially when the weather becomes colder. At this time of year I am not nearly as active as I would like. I feel aches and pains more often. I dread the coming of cold, snow and the dry heat from the furnace that affects my sinuses. 

When life becomes still, watching the feeders will be the best thing I do.

Resurfacing

It is hard to believe that a month ago - Valentine's Day - my neighborhood was buried under two feet of snow from the nor'easter Feb. 1. There were several snow storms in February and we were in perpetual white all month. It was only in March the weather started to warm, culminating in one day when the temperature reached nearly 70 degrees F. Now, only the smallest bits of icy snow remain in the shady areas. 

Feb. 22, 2021 (Margo D. Beller)

With the end of the snow, some good and bad things resurfaced.

I looked outside one day and saw one yellow crocus in an area where there should've been more. I quickly yanked away a pot I had put behind the deer netting and there were the rest of them, which had come out of the ground and struggled under the weight of the pot. In a few days they recovered, and with them came some purple crocus. These flowers usually come up in February but were now making up for lost time.

In another bed, the snowdrops - another early bloomer - suddenly appeared and flowered a month late. They are sharing the area with many daffodils, my favorite flowers because of their diversity and their not being palatable to deer or chipmunks. The irises are showing signs of life, as are the rhododendron and the azeleas. The maple trees have started to flower, too.

Those are the good things. But there are also bad.

A deer (I'm pretty sure it was the same one) found a weakness in the netting and devoured every leaf of the yellow and green euonymous bushes. Best as I can figure, a deer put its head through an area not well fastened down the first time. Then, when I fixed that, it got up on its hind legs and pushed the netting down until it could reach over and eat more bushes. Finally, after I fixed that it went around to the side to get the last two it couldn't reach before.

Crocuses, March 14, 2021 (Margo D. Beller)

I went out and chopped the bushes back as far back as I could, something I'll be sure to do next autumn. (I know from experience they will grow back.) The netting has been reinforced and more poles put in to fix what the deer's actions bent. Now there is nothing that will interest a hungry deer until the sedum start to grow.

Let's go back to the good.

While I worked to cut back ornamental grasses and the butterfly bush over the past week I could hear plenty of birds singing or calling - robins, cardinals, a song sparrow, redbellied woodpecker, even one of the earliest migrants, the redwinged blackbird. Very large flocks of grackles flew over, not stopping in my area as they did last February. This morning several skeins of Canada geese were flying north. These are the wild geese, not the ones that have made their home in office parks. Those geese will fly up and around and land, knowing they are supposed to move but not knowing why. The wild geese know the frozen ponds in the north are melting.

Snowdrops (Margo D. Beller)

Now that the snow is gone and the air is warming, more people are walking, and that reminds me I have to get back to walking, too. I did not walk much on my town streets in the cold and the park trails were inaccessible to me because of the deep snow. That snow is now gone, as I discovered this morning. COVID-19 has kept many of us indoors, although we used the cold and snow as an excuse, and so it felt good to walk my favorite trail again to see and hear the birds, not all of which I could've also heard in the backyard.

Finally, now that it is easier for us all to get around, I must take the feeders in at night. It was early one morning at the end of March 2015 I opened my kitchen curtains and saw only one of two feeder poles, the other bent to the ground. I have been bringing the feeders in at night ever since except for when thick snow covers in winter, when the bears should be hibernating. (Six months later, on a warm, sunny, late afternoon, I saw a bear pass through my yard after taking down an arm of the other feeder pole as it tried to take off the house-shaped feeder.) The bears will emerge from their dens hungry and, if a male, seeking new territories. So I'm back to taking feeders in at night.

However, the need to put out feeders in the morning gets me out of bed - resurfacing, you could say - and allows me to hear the birdsong, which will only increase as northbound migrants pass through in the next month. So it's not all bad.

Defoliated shrub (Margo D. Beller)

Count Me Out This Year

The morning after the storm
(Margo D. Beller)

This is the 3-day Presidents Day weekend, and that is when the National Audubon Society and the Cornell Ornithology Lab hold the annual Great Backyard Bird Count. It is meant to encourage people to really look at the birds around them and note how many they are seeing. The data gives the scientists information as to what kinds of birds are increasing in numbers, which are declining and where this is happening.

Most birders enjoy the Count and the counting. They like being "citizen scientists" and use the Count as an excuse to go visit as many places as they can (almost like a winter World Series of Birding), see as many birds as they can and then file their reports. I've done that. But I've also written of how I don't like to count because it makes the birding more like work. 

Well, this year, for the first time in many years, I am not participating in the Count. Why? I'll count out the reasons:

1. I forgot it was going on until late Saturday, about midway through the Friday through Monday period.

2. Because of the 2 feet-plus of snow we've had since early this month I can't walk that easily in the places where I usually look for birds. It's costly to send out a plow crew for a town or county with limited manpower and budget. That's why, for instance, at Greystone, the county park near me, only the main road and some of the paved paths are plowed. The unpaved back areas where I would find all sorts of birds, even in winter, are blocked by piled-up snow mountains.

In another area I hike, Patriots Path, I discovered I could walk in one area but only because some sort of heavy vehicle had driven through, pushing down the snow under heavy treads that helped make walking with my stick a tad easier. But other areas of this linear park were not done, I found. I don't walk in deep or uneven snow anymore. The effort is hard on my lungs and using the stick to keep my balance is hard on my arms and neck.

There was a time when I would joyfully walk in deep snow. Falling into a drift and needing my stick to help get me off my back and on my feet was fun then. It's scarier now. I might not make it back up.

Shoveling the front path, again
(Margo D. Beller)

3. There have not been as many birds at my feeders lately. I thought it was my fault. During autumn there were times I left the feeders inside because of the rain or took them in before dark to keep them from bears. Birds go where there is food. If no food is out they go elsewhere and might not be back.

Before the Feb. 1 nor'easter I made sure the three seed feeders and the suet feeder were filled and outside. After the storm ended I used my shovel and my feet to tamp down a walkable path to the two poles so I could brush the white stuff off the feeders and unblock their openings.

I was sure the snow would bring the birds back in greater numbers than I've seen. Maybe they left for less-snowy areas. Maybe the storms killed them. Or maybe there are more birds visiting than I think. I would not know because...

4. I don't have as much time to spend watching. That might seem strange considering during this time of coronavirus I am working at home, but that is the point. I am in my upstairs office working. I can't sit on my porch all day and wait for the birds, especially when it's quite cold outside. I no longer walk to the train and see or hear birds in my neighborhood in the morning. I no longer look out the train window and see a redtail hawk sitting atop a tree in the sunshine, or the ducks in a Meadowlands impoundment. Now I get up, spend a little time on my porch or in the kitchen and then must get to work.

The birds are on the periphery. I get my breakfast and from the kitchen table I see a male downy woodpecker at the suet, or house finches taking seeds. I sit on the porch in the early morning with my first cup of coffee and see a female cardinal, maybe a titmouse. I hear the churring of a redbellied woodpecker. But I can't stay out there. If I am lucky I can look out the open shade in my office and maybe see a chickadee in the locust tree, or I can hear honking Canada geese as I take a walk at dusk around the block.

And finally...

(RE Berg-Andersson)

5. I just don't feel like it. I have been under a lot of stress. The virus has kept me from traveling, from seeing friends and family. My work has become harder and more tiring, and with no commute I don't have any of the down time where my brain could relax. I go from one job (where I make money to pay the bills) to another (taking care of MH and the household chores). That is why this year, even more so than usual, watching for birds and counting them seems more like work. After being cooped up in the house for five days, on the weekends my inclination is to flee, not sit in the house and wait for anything to come to the feeders. But this weather makes fleeing that much more difficult, and that depresses me. 

That's what nearly a year of pandemic life has done to me.

I wish the snow was gone so I could take longer walks in different places and see more birds. But not now. That will have to wait until the spring.

Bird brains

Redbelly in an awkward position. (Margo D. Beller)

Two days after the first nor'easter of the 2020 winter season, I was bundled against the 18 degree (F) cold (14 outside) as I sat on my enclosed porch, waiting for the birds to show up at the three seed and one suet feeders I had put out the morning before as the snow was winding down. With 10 inches of snow on the ground I had left the feeders out overnight, figuring the bears were finally taking a winter nap.

The first birds to arrive were two chickadees. One would fly to the feeder that has a cage surrounding the seed tube. The other would fly over and the first one would fly away until the second fed and left. Obviously, a pecking order at work, but how do they know which is the leader?

A female cardinal came to the open, house-shaped feeder but when a male flew to the other side of the feeder, she flew to a nearby bush. Usually cardinal pairs don't act this way - they share the feeder - but when a second male cardinal flew in and the first one chased him off I wondered which one, if either, was the female's mate.

A white-breasted nuthatch as a house finch waits for it
to fly off. (Margo D. Beller)

Later, a male redbellied woodpecker came to the house feeder. He took a seed, flew to a tree to crack it open to eat, then came back. He completely ignored the suet feeder hanging on the other arm of the pole. After a couple of passes he realized there was a long, perchless feeder encased in "squirrel-proof" metal (squirrels might not get in but I have seen them hang on, if they can jump over the baffle). He flew over, grabbed the metal and was in a more natural position to get seed without having to twist himself around, as he did at the house feeder.

Meanwhile, a smaller male downy woodpecker was enjoying the suet. A female downy (the females don't have the males' red spot on the back of the head), which I had seen on the suet when it was hung on the other feeder pole before the storm, also used the long feeder rather than look for the suet. Was she put off by the male or did she not see the suet?

Finally, a male white-breasted nuthatch came to the house feeder at the same time as a female (whose head has a gray crown rather than a black one). She stayed on the feeder roof and watched the male, waiting for him to leave. Didn't she see the other side was open for her?

I mention all this because at several points I wondered what these birds could be thinking. 

Downy at suet feeder. Woodpeckers don't mind
being upside-down. (Margo D. Beller)

We use the term "bird-brained" to connote a human who is none too smart. But birds have proportionally large brains compared to their overall body and head sizes. With those brains they can remember where they have cached food, where they can find more food (such as my feeders) and how to adapt to situations. 

The first time I used my long feeder, before I realized I needed a pole and a baffle to keep out the squirrels, I hung it in the pear tree in front of my screened porch. I noticed at several points that winter some of the juncos, a black and white relative of the sparrow family, would grab hold of the metal and get a seed. Without a perch, this was not a natural position for a sparrow. But a few of these had figured out they could get the food without competition from the others foraging on the ground. 

Blue jay, like its corvid relatives, is among the 
smartest birds. (Margo D. Beller)

Birds are also smart enough to know how to find the proper roost hole in winter and the materials to create nests in summer. Each Spring robins poke around my ornamental grass garden to take the cut grass I haven't picked up. Other birds have gone into the compost pile if there is suitable material for a nest. Somehow they have learned how to do this from their parents. And, of course, the birds, including the previous year's nestlings, somehow remember how to get to their wintering grounds every Autumn and how to return to their breeding grounds every Spring.

Many have written about the intelligence of certain birds, or try to analyze why they do what they do. Especially now, during the time of coronavirus when people desperate to be out of the house are suddenly discovering the birds around them, this is a popular field.

Among the most intelligent of the birds are the corvids, including ravens, crows, jays and magpies. Corvids are among those that know how to use tools. They have an assortment of vocal sounds that mean different things, a type of language. Naturalist Bernd Heinrich was so fascinated by ravens and crows he wrote a number of books about them.

In researching this blog post I learned scientists turned to grackles to learn how often a bird blinks in flight. It never occurred to me a bird could blink, but I am not surprised grackles were studied. Grackles know how to forage, as I know when there is an invasion of 100 of them in my yard and my neighbors' several times a year. Grackles, like other blackbirds including orioles, are very intelligent. Grackles have learned that after mating season is over there is safety in numbers and more eyes mean a better chance of finding food.  

So are birds smart or silly when they fight over one side of my feeder while the other side has nothing in it, or when they ignore a feeder that might provide them an easier way to eat? My human brain isn't smart enough to provide an answer.

Summer of My Discontent (Squirrel Division)

Apple season is nearly over and the only fruit still on the tree is way at the top, where I can't reach it even with my extension pole. However, the gray squirrels have no problem. They climb the main trunk to a branch, then carefully go along until they reach an apple. If the thin branch bends too far and they could fall and break a leg, they leave the fruit alone. At least for the moment.

I watch them do this from my porch and find myself developing a begrudging admiration for Sciurus carolinsis, even as it wreaks havoc throughout my backyard.

"Eastern Gray Squirrel" by DFChurch is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 

According to the "Mammals of North America" field guide (Kenn Kaufman is one of its authors), the Eastern gray squirrel has a varied diet that includes fruit, nuts, bird eggs, tree buds, insects, even carrion. "As many people have learned, these squirrels are also very good at raiding bird feeders," the authors add with droll understatement.

Well, duh.

Thanks to the squirrels, I've finally taken in my last feeder for the summer. Either the recent heavy rains pushed down the protective baffle to a height where the squirrels could jump on it, or a squirrel that wanted some food ASAP managed to grab the edge and pull the baffle down. Whatever happened, I went out one morning with the feeder for the cardinal family and a short time later looked out and couldn't understand why it was at such a strange angle... until I saw the two squirrels on it. Out I went and in came the feeder. No more summer feeding. 

The cardinals came and looked for the seed but flew off. I am presuming the young cardinal following its parents can now feed itself because I no longer hear it begging. The male still flies to the feeder pole every so often as a perch to scan for insects below and I feel a twinge of guilt. 

Meanwhile, the squirrels climb the apple tree almost as fast as I can pick up partially eaten apples in my bucket, dump them in a far corner and then go back inside. If I am not fast enough to pick up this fruit, the deer come to finish it off. Judging from all the deer poop I shoveled up the other day so MH could mow the area, I haven't been very fast. 

Apples and nest box (Margo D. Beller)

So I started racing the squirrels for apples by whacking the branches with the extension pole. I know the apple tree wasn't pleased but it was me or the squirrels. So far I have made six pints of apple sauce and one apple cobbler. 

However, the decline in remaining apples comes too late for the house wrens, which deserted the nest box. The combination of too many hungry squirrels in the tree and my being out there with my stick, albeit as far from the nest box as possible, was too much for the wren pair, which would scold me even if I just stood under the tree. 

One morning I went out with my bucket and found the box turned around after a night of heavy rain. I turned it back and saw the opening was filled with nesting material, so much I could not imagine how even something as small as a house wren could get in there to tend to young. I left it alone. Over the next few days I would hear a wren sing as close as a yard away, but nothing came to the apple tree. Finally, I pulled some of the material out of the box. No peeping chicks. No smell of rotting eggs. A few days later I took down the box and cleared it. Many twigs, a few feathers, even a bit of plastic. No eggs. I re-hung the box and now hope for another wren pair in my yard that won't be as jinxed as the last pair.

So that's the havoc. Where does the squirrel admiration come in?

How squirrels adapt (Margo D. Beller)

These rats with bushy tails are survivors. When we have a hard winter with a lot of ice-covered snow and the squirrels can't reach their buried stores, they devise rather interesting ways to get to the feeders if the birds don't drop seeds fast enough. I've written about the really bad winter where squirrels used the accumulated snowpack as a springboard to vault the baffle and grab the "anti-squirrel" cage of the feeders. One squirrel, I discovered, tried to gnaw through the metal bars (the green plastic that keeps the bars from rusting was gone) and then tried to pull the bars apart to stick its head inside. (How it would've gotten past the plastic tube I don't know but I'm sure it would've, somehow.)

Squirrels are smart. They know they can't get behind my deer netting (unlike the smaller chipmunks, alas) because they might not be able to make a clean getaway if I suddenly show up. Do a search under "squirrel feeder videos" and you are likely to find both videos from the makers of these "squirrel-proof" feeders and the people who were greatly entertained watching the squirrels attempt to get food from them. But these feeders don't stop squirrels, they only slow them down (as my picture above shows). 

There is always one particularly smart squirrel that vexes me by its acrobatics even as I admire its abilities. According to MH, who once raised gerbils, the smart squirrel is likely a female that does what she must because she is "eating for six," i.e. pregnant. 

There was the squirrel I found grasping a screen on my enclosed porch and then, after much calculation, jumping across to one of the feeders. There was the squirrel that figured out it could climb the pear tree to jump to the porch roof and go after the acorns other squirrels were dropping from the oak trees above. There are also the stupid squirrels that are hawk or owl food or suddenly run out in front of your car and become roadkill. They will scamper along power lines or even gnaw on them, electrocuting themselves and creating a power outage.

There are regions where people still hunt squirrels but in urban areas such as Central Park, gray squirrels have become used to being fed by humans. In my backyard squirrels dig many holes to bury nuts for winter or dig up other squirrels' nuts to eat. They can do a lot of digging, including in my unnetted flower beds. They might even climb into your house attic.

If humans want to take their picture and feed them peanuts from their hands, the squirrels won't mind. If I am stupid enough to put out a feeder at a time when most birds aren't as interested in sunflower seeds, squirrels will take things into their own paws.

Apple season is just about over. Acorn season is around the corner. So is squirrel birthing season. Joy.

Bird Eat Bird

One of the handy books I keep on my shelves of birding guides is "Birds at Your Feeder: A Guide to Feeding Habits, Behavior, Distribution, and Abundance." It was one of the first books I bought when I got interested in birding.

It gives species accounts for dozens of birds that are likely to come to feeders including northern cardinals, white-breasted nuthatches and white-throated sparrows along with birds I'm not likely to see in New Jersey such as black-billed magpies and pyrrhuloxia. Want to know what kind of seed will attract a goldfinch? This guide will tell you.

Immature Cooper's hawk that missed a meal.
(Margo D. Beller)

This is what it says for sharp-shinned hawks, the first species in the book:

Favorite feeder foods: Mourning dove. blue jay, European starling, dark-eyed junco, pine siskin, house finch, house sparrow.

Infrequent choices: 21 additional prey species, similar in size to those listed above.

Or as MH likes to say, "What's a sharpy's favorite food? Birds at your feeder."

Yes, it's a bird eat bird world out there, particularly in winter when birds must flock to feeders for food when they can't find berries or bugs. They become more visible and so do the predators that eat birds to survive.

This morning I came out with the feeders to find a dusting of snow on the patio and the lawn. I sat on the enclosed porch in my coat to await the male cardinal that always seems to know when I have put out food. He came, taking a seed and then chasing away the white-throated sparrow on the baffle below it. Aside from these birds there was very little activity as the snow continued falling lightly. Two titmice came to grab seeds and fly to the pear tree to eat.

Then, as I looked ahead, something large and brown came up from the ground to the roof of the porch where I sat. A mourning dove? Then why is the titmouse suddenly giving its high-pitched alarm call? I soon saw the answer when the sharp-shinned hawk flew from the roof to a nearby branch. Juvenile accipiters (including the larger Cooper's and northern goshawk) are brown but become gray as they mature. This one was a juvenile - brown and empty taloned. I have seen sharpys fly close to the ground to pick off a meal so this one must have flown into my yard low and, for whatever reason, flown up to the roof where it could be seen by other birds and avoided.

Immature redtail hawk observed in my backyard. (Margo D. Beller)

Eventually, the sharpy flew off to the trees on the next street but then passed over my yard on the way to the woods on the edge of the community garden behind the houses across the street. Not long after, the jays began hitting the feeder and the titmice, house sparrows and house finches came to eat, not be eaten.

In time, the juvenile will learn it must become a better hunter if it wants to survive the winter. Accipiters are built for speed and agility. Their wings are such they can fly between trees, which larger hawks such as a redtail can't do. I have chased sharpys out of my hedge. I have been buzzed by sharpys while in the woods. In my yard alone I have seen an adult literally pick a junco out of the trees, crushing the life out of it with a nauseating pop. I caught one sharpy after it had grabbed a chickadee, which it took into a neighbor's shrub to finish. Catching a big, plump bird such as a mourning dove will feed a crow-sized female sharpy very well (female hawks of all types are always larger than the males).

Mature sharpy finishing off a mourning dove in the backyard.
(Margo D. Beller)

No raptors will turn down a bird meal if it can't catch anything else. Great horned owls will eat the much smaller screech owl. Turkey vultures have been known to push young birds from a nest to kill and eat them (which is why you will often see crows and other birds attacking vultures that get too close). Both northern and loggerhead shrikes have the nasty habit of killing smaller birds and impaling them on a branch to snack on later. (The shrike is known as the "butcher bird" for this reason.)

I know, all birds have to eat, even the ones that feed on the birds at my feeder. I get that. Still, not in my yard. This is why when a raptor appears in my yard trees I stand outside near the feeders, to study it while protecting the feeder birds. The raptor eventually flies off to look for its meal elsewhere.