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Here you'll find news, snippets, photos, and thoughts from the Carver's Daughter, Kari Jo Spear. Feel free to comment on a post or email me through the link found in "About Me." Share a birding experience. Ask me about birds, writing, carving, the Birds of Vermont Museum, or anything. I'll try to answer, or find the answer, or if all else fails, I'll just say hi back to you.

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Wednesday, November 25, 2020

Winter Birding


Winter is a lovely time to bird. Sure, I'm probably not going to witness a bald eagle being mobbed by two peregrine falcons overhead while I'm in the middle of Malletts Bay in my kayak, but there's nothing wrong with sitting in my recliner with a mug of hot tea and watching a tufted titmouse and a black capped chickadee having their breakfast about three feet away from me on a snowy morning. (The dangling prism is one of many in my windows to help remind birds that glass is not imaginary.)

It's also a great time to start birding because there are fewer birds here, and many are happy to come visit you if you offer an incentive. Black oil sunflower seeds are always a crowd pleaser, as well as suet cakes which woodpeckers and nuthatches prefer. I use hanging tube feeders with an external lattice that slides down over the openings when squirrels hop on board. (Believe me, there are plenty of seeds that get spilled on the ground below for hungry mammals.) If you can, hang feeders in a sheltered place with plenty of perches nearby for the birds that like to choose a seed and take it elsewhere to eat. Lilac bushes make great perches, and a handy evergreen shrub nearby will offer shelter.

Keep a field guide at hand so you can figure out what is coming to visit you. There are a lot of good bird id apps for your phone out there, too (I use Merlin Bird Id). But they can be confusing for beginning birders. There's nothing like flipping back and forth between a couple pages in a real book to compare an artist's depiction of a bird that highlights fieldmarks, as opposed to photos that can be influenced by odd lighting or weird angles. Though there's nothing wrong with snapping a photo and plugging it into the id app and seeing what it comes up with. (Just beware occasional epic fails--once I photographed a black walnut seed for a plant id app, and it told me it was a pumpkin.)

If you do venture outside with binoculars, you won't be overwhelmed by a flock of warblers that moves so quickly you can't always be sure that the one you're focused on is the same one you saw land on the limb a moment ago. With no leaves, it's easier to spot a red-tailed hawk sitting on a powerline, or a raven winging overhead, or a flock of turkeys moving across a snowy field. Blue jays are moving spots of color, cardinals can take your breath away, and if you're very lucky, you might spot an adorable little brown creeper making its way up the trunk of a tree. Or you may get that feeling someone is behind you, watching you very intently, and when you turn, you spot a barred owl on a limb just inside the forest. 

The big fall migration is pretty much over by now, but the winter regulars are sometimes joined by visitors from farther north who come in search of food during years that didn't produce enough in their home territory. Winter birders always get excited by appearance of redpoles (common and hoary), pine siskins, bohemian waxwings, and evening grosbeaks. And of course, the Holy Grail of the northern visitors, the snowy owl. If you have a chance to go see one, do it. There is truly no other bird quite like a snowy owl, and to have one turn its piercing yellow stare on you kinda makes you sense your place in the universe. Very small. Snowys are most often seen in the snow goose viewing area at Dead Creek down in Addison, or on the breakwater in Burlington. (They normally live so far north that there are no trees, so they feel more comfortable in open spaces with low perches, like rocks.) Already, this is shaping up to be a good winter for northern visitors.

So bundle up and grab your binoculars, or make yourself a nice cup of tea, and be thankful for the birds of this season. And when the spring migration arrives in April and May, you'll be very familiar with the year-long residents, your skills will be honed, and you'll be all ready to dive into the challenge of warblers.

Also, always feel free to shoot me an email or a comment on my blog here or message me on Facebook. I won't always be able to figure out what you saw, but I love conversations that begin with, "Hey Kari Jo, I just saw this bird that..."

And (shameless plug) The Caver's Daughter: A Memoir might make a nice holiday gift... The Carver's Daughter: A Memoir


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