No Calm

Even the little bit of snow that coverd the forest yesterday afternoon when I took this photo is gone this morning. A bit of rain, fog and warmer temperatures combined to make it disappear. All that is left this morning are a few fist-sized patches of it scattered here and there.

Nature doesn't seem to like calm very much, though the saying says she abhors a vacuum. A day of calm weather is almost certainly to be followed by something more extreme or at least more active. Yesterday it was freezing rain. Today it is wind. Tomorrow? Well, the temperature will drop from the spring-like temperatures that greeted me this morning to a wintry 15 degrees by tonight.

The rain had a bit of good effect at the cabin, at least from my point of view. The driveway is largely clear of ice this morning and for the first time in weeks, navigating along it wasn't slippery. Although, in some ways, mud isn't much of an improvement, either.

This morning, for the first time since the December ice storm, I saw a red-breasted nuthatch at the feeders. Is it the same one, I wonder? It is certainly a female. It was only there a moment and then flitted away. Has it finally gone through its stash of seeds? Quite literally, it came to the feeders about 50 times a day from the moment it arrived to when it disappeared. I soon realized it was storing its seed somewhere and couldn't possibly be eating that much. The one little bird was nearly single-handedly responsible for my high bird seed bill in November and early December. Then the ice storm hit, and until this morning I'd not seen one again and feared it was a victim of the storm. Perhaps it was just living off the stored seed that it must have kept in a hole the size of a small silo. In any event, I am glad to see its return, if only briefly.

Victims of the Ice Storm

During the weekend’s ice storm, as many as 80,000 people were out of power in this region for at least a day. That’s down to about 2,000 now and those poor folks are supposed to have it back today. Some roads are still not cleared. Homeowners are assessing the damage and checking their insurance policies for what is and is not covered.

Humans are not the only victims of this storm. Tree damage is extensive. Last December I took a pretty photo of several white pine trees with a delicate and pretty glazing of ice and snow. All of those trees are now broken. One might survive but I’m even doubtful of that one. Ice still grips the mountain, if slightly less so than the day before. Temperatures only rose above freezing for an hour or two yesterday. It was enough to start the process of thawing but that still has a ways to go.

In front of my cabin, I have three conifers that are in danger. Yesterday, I thought for sure I would lose two but thought one might make it. Today, one of those in danger has improved, though it’s not safe yet.

I’ve also seen two flocks of Canada geese, both at migration altitude, heading south. These sluggards were likely "gambling" that they were already as far south as they needed to be for the winter, and then the ice storm came. Now, they are getting out of Dodge, better late than never.

The little red-breasted nuthatch that visited my feeders 50 times a day since the moment it arrived is also among the missing. I still have a small glimmer of hope that it has survived, but only a small one. During the week, I don’t have much daylight time to see what’s going on at the feeders so perhaps it is there and I am only not seeing it. This is possible but unlikely, as before the storm I could rarely look outside and not see it. Perhaps it is holed up somewhere with its stash of seeds—not even the world’s hungriest nuthatch could consume as many seeds each day as this one took from the feeders. Perhaps it has left the area, figuring that it wasn’t nearly as far south as it thought it was. This is also, I think, unlikely. In any event, I haven’t seen it since Sunday afternoon. Godpseed, girlfriend, wherever you are.

Red-beasted Nuthatch

It really shouldn't have been as difficult as it was. I have likely taken 50 photos, just trying to get a half-decent photo of this red-breasted nuthatch. It shouldn't have been so difficult because this tiny little cutie is a daily visitor to my feeders. And, the bird makes multiple trips to the feeders. So why is it so difficult to photo?

Well, the bird is fast. It zooms in like a fighter jet from somewhere near the side of the house, grabs a seed and zooms out again all in the same second. I have blurry photos and photos of the bird's back (head down as it grabs its favored seed). But actually seeing the whole bird? This is about is good as it gets.

This particular bird doesn't have much of a red breast. It's closer to tawny than red. I'd also forgotten how tiny these birds are--smaller than the Carolina chickadees, which makes them the smallest birds at my winter feeders.

My goal for the winter is to take a photo of every species that comes to my feeders. The red-bellied woodpecker is likely going to be difficult, simply as it doesn't show up that often. The sparrows might also pose a challenge as they stay on the deck and don't hop into my platform feeder. But whatever the end result, it should be fun!

Note: I will be offline until Monday. I'm heading up to New Hampshire for a board meeting of the Hawk Migration Association of North America. Hopefully, I'll have a few spare moments to see some good birds and take a few photos!

An Alien Landscape

Now that fall has really arrived, I feel as though I am suddenly living on a different planet. Or perhaps, I’ve just moved further north. Still, after nearly 6 months of summer, having the weather change so completely so quickly has overnight makes me feel a bit as though I’ve living in a different place, in a vaguely alien landscape.

In most years, the seasonal changes arrive so slowly that I barely notice them. I have to make an effort to notice them. But this year, suddenly and overnight, I am living in a place where I need to wear long sleeves and a jacket. I live in a place where a red-breasted nuthatch comes to the bird feeder. Suddenly, I need to close the windows and heat the cabin. Suddenly, geese fly and their calls can be heard in the dark of a new moon. Six deer trot past the cabin door each morning as they head from their bed to a morning grazing spot. The green of summer is giving way to a yellower, browner shade of leaves. The change out my front door was seismic this week.

On Saturday, it was chilly but pleasant, with little breeze. I sat outside reading my morning newspaper when I heard a familiar call. The call I heard reminds me of those Christmas favors that used to be popular—a little tin horn. It’s the call of a red-breasted nuthatch, which has a hoarser sound than the resident white-breasted nuthatch. It’s been several years since I’ve seen one of these little cuties. They don’t come south every year, and when they do it means they’ve come south because their northern crop of cones is poor. What’s good for southern birdwatchers is a real hardship for these birds. They come south to find food, braving the hazards of migration to search for a new food source. I wonder how many never make it, and I also wonder if the overall population of these birds plummets the year after they are forced to leave their own territories and head south for the winter.

As I sat outside I saw several birds flitting around in the driveway, though the sun’s angle kept me from IDing any of them. I noticed that most of the birds were coming and going from my birdfeeders out back, so I went inside to sit by a window. It didn’t take long before the little red-breasted nuthatch appeared in the feeder. He got food several times, but was often chased away by one of the white-breasted nuthatches. The local white-breasted nuthatch tries to chase off every other bird that comes to the feeders, so this behavior may not be a perceived threat just from a different species of nuthatch. I watched the newcomer for several minutes before it took off. I haven’t yet seen the bird again, so perhaps it is already somewhere else, continuing its flight south.

Random Observations

Today is the first day of rifle deer season. About 6:10 a.m. I heard a guy go up the mountain on an ATV. The thing made so much noise that every deer between Roundtop and Mt. Pleasant could likely hear him. Surprisingly, considering the number of hunting passes issued by Roundtop and the strange cars I’ve seen cruising around the mountain, his is the only vehicle I saw that I was sure was a hunter’s. No one was parked up around the new pond or across the road by the well. Perhaps there were a few more cars down at maintenance than is usual, but that might just as easily be explained by pre-season skiing gear-up. Even though the temperature will top 60ºF today, I kept Dog inside today just to be safe. Most of the guys who hunt the mountain don’t know the woods well enough for me to be sure they won’t shoot where they’re not supposed to.

On Thanksgiving Day, I spent some time at the family farmstead where I saw the first red-breasted nuthatch I’ve seen this season. So far none of those have shown up at my cabin’s bird feeder, but the parents report this bird is a regular visitor at their feeder.

The red-tailed hawk that I’ve reported on several times already was seen and/or heard around the cabin almost every day I was off over the holidays.