Snow Birds

My title is literal, and not the ironic expression used for people with separate winter and summer homes who avoid the snow. While I could certainly comment on that, it’s actual birds in snow that interest me here. More specifically we will be looking at some of the badass birds that tough it out though the winters in the northern Green Mountains of Vermont. This is a small fraction of the birds that live here in the warmer months. An elite group I would argue, and not in the derisive way of sociopolitical dialogue. No, membership in the community of wild animals that survive, and even thrive in, the northern winters is indeed a meritocracy.

How do they do it? Well, various ways of course, in terms of finding enough food, but certain general features of bird anatomy and physiology are essential. The outer feathers on most birds’ bodies (all in the group discussed here) are waterproof, and the inner feathers, known as down, provide the best insulation on Earth. So, as usual with birds, so much of them is about the feathers. But what about their poor, naked legs and feet? These are kept warm, or at least not frozen, by an incredible adaptation called countercurrent circulation. I won’t get into a technical description, but countercurrent circulation uses close contact between in-going and out-going blood vessels to warm the feet without cooling the rest of the body.

There’s my short introduction. So short you didn’t need to skip it, but I’ll bet you did. Anyway, let’s look at some birds!

We begin with this Black Capped Chickadee in a Pin Cherry, since these gregarious little charmers are familiar favorites throughout their considerable range. Chickadees tend to be one of the most seen species at feeders. But, no matter how much suet and sunflower seeds they stuff in their sweet little faces they’ll still spend hours searching the nooks and crannies of trees and shrubs for insects and spiders.

There’s no snow on the Rhododendron this Red-breasted Nuthatch is perched in (right by my door), but this was taken this month, December 2024. These tiny birds have voices that are as endearing as their faces, and as the only Nuthatch of the western Washington lowlands they have been a beloved part of my day to day life for the last twenty-six years. I’m so glad they’re here too, and that I have another every-day Nuthatch now too.

As I watched this White-breasted Nuthatch hunt for spiders and insects in the crown of this Yellow Birch I was thrilled to see him start making his way down the trunk towards me. White-breasted Nuthatches are twice the size of the Red-breasted, but somehow manage to have voices that are softer and sweeter. Of the two species I have had more encounters with White-breasted Nuthatches since returning to Vermont. The novelty is still fresh, so I’m loving that.

Here’s that same Nuthatch further down that same tree gifting me an absolute bird-photography highlight of the year. Thanks, little buddy!

American Crows are snow birds, and are particularly photogenic in this context. I’ve been slowly but surely ingratiating myself to the local murder. I wouldn’t have gotten this close to these two a month earlier. As ever-curious omnivores Crows are well equipped for the challenge of finding food in the lean times. Ravens are here year-round as well, but their tolerance is harder to earn. If I could do a post on Ravens in snow alone before the winter is over I would be most satisfied.

Our other Corvid, the Bluejay, is also a year-round resident. While Jays are distinct from their Crow and Raven cousins in many ways, they have being clever omnivores in common. I’m looking forward to getting a nice close up of a Bluejay in snow, but in the meantime this one amongst winter twigs will have to do.

Here’s an American Goldfinch on that same Rhododendron (which you’ll see even more of). This species is named for the summer plumage of the males. There’s much less difference between the sexes in their winter plumage, but the touches of yellow on this individual suggest a male. The cheerful flight calls of these little finches reveal their presence all year long, and this winter they are the only finch I have seen so far.

Going all the way back to a visit in January of 2016 with this photo of a Purple Finch female eating White Ash seeds. Finches are seed eating specialists, and the presence or absence of Ash keys and Ash-leaved Maple samaras determine their whereabouts in a given winter. The easiest way to distinguish female Purple Finches from female House Finches, who are also present year-round, is by the “eyebrow” seen here.

This male Purple Finch was the presumed mate of the female seen in the previous photo. While clearly not purple the males of this species are redder than those of House Finches. They also lack the brown caps and belly streaks of that species. Another year-round finch in northern New England is the Pine Siskin, although they can seem like winter finches since they’re more conspicuous in the winter. There are three strictly winter finches here; the Common Redpoll, the Evening Grosbeak, and the Pine Grosbeak. I’ve not seen any of these species yet this winter, but all of the winter finches are at the top of my wish list.

Tree Sparrows are winter visitors who breed in the far north. They head south to places like northern New England and the Great Lakes states to get away from the cold. Rugged! While they may actually enjoy the relative warmth, it’s most likely the relative abundance of food that makes them migrate.

Another view of the same Tree Sparrow, because who wouldn’t want to more of this sweetheart? I’m so glad I made a point of getting out to take her picture that day, because it turns out that she was just passing through. Hopefully she rejoined her flock, because that’s how these birds roll in the winter.

Historically their range barely reached southern Vermont, but Carolina Wrens have recently expanded their range northward. They have become a regular breeder here, and some even stay through the winter. I was very excited to discover one doing just that right outside my door. Hoping for better pictures, but for now just seeing and documenting this is exciting for me.

Mourning Doves seen through the window. You won’t hear their enchanting namesake song in the winter, but the whistle of their wings is a frequent sound as these skittish birds move back and forth between the ground and the trees.

Wild Turkeys live here year round, but these giants become quite conspicuous in the winter. This is part of a family of nine, which would be mom and this year’s young. Toms, the adult males, roll solo, and I’m sorry to say that I haven’t seen one yet.

Get a load of those wings! They’re mostly only used for short bursts of flight, to escape a predator or get into a tree for food or roosting.

A Pileated Woodpecker excavates a Balsam Poplar snag for Carpenter Ants. These crow-sized woodpeckers are North America’s largest since the untimely demise of the Ivory Billed. This is a female. The red of a male’s crest comes all the way to the base of his bill, and he has a red malar (mustache stripe). Pileated Woodpeckers require mature trees for their nest cavities, which become prime real estate for other wildlife after their first and only use by the woodpeckers. Like the Plieated our other winter woodpeckers, the Hairy and the Downy, are year-round residents.

And now I leave you with this Tufted Titmouse in a Paper Birch. I’ve been thrilled every time I heard or saw these larger cousins of chickadees this year. I’m delighted that I get to see their charming faces and and hear their endearing voices all year long.

That’s all for now, folks. I thank you sincerely for your time and attention, for they are our most precious resources. Where we focus our attention determines the quality of our too-brief time in this world, so I hope you found some beauty here, and learned a thing or two. If you’re so inclined I would love to read a quick note about where you are and what some of the winter birds are there. If you’re reading this in the newsletter just hit “reply.” If you’re on my website there’s a comment form right below this. Happy New Year!