by Doug Chickering of Groveland
It’s December, and it’s really not quite winter. A beautiful autumn of warm days and unexpected avian treasures has also demonstrated a tenacious ability to hang on; to keep the Canadian door closed to winter. There is no snow on the ground; none of the ponds or lakes are frozen and many of falls birds can still be found; still unwilling to head off into their migration. There have been a few wintry episodes. There was an unexpected small but formidable winter storm at the end of October that gave us plowable snow. There have been a few cold snaps that sent sheets of ice across the ponds. But the snow melted away and the ice was gone usually the next day. When they froze the birds, as expected vanished, but when the warm air returned, the ice melted and the birds were back; more or less in the same places and numbers as before. So there was a brace of Long-billed Dowitchers in the pans at Plum Island; staying at the same place through the freeze thaw cycle; hangi
ng on into the winter for reasons known only to them. The same was true for four Great Egrets who managed to get themselves on record for the Christmas bird count which was held after Christmas. It was all so amazing. As were the rarities that either showed up in the winter or the fall or then stayed into deep December. The Cassin’s Kingbird, Barnacle Goose and Townsend’s Warbler proved to be uncommonly cooperative. They were easy to find and stayed around.
Even if we are fortunate enough to have our lakes and ponds unfrozen on the first day of the year. Even if the rarities manage to hold past then and make it to our year list, it is certain that the climate reprieve is only temporary. Already the weather maps show the relentless march of arctic air coming towards us and soon real winter will be upon us. In a way I will welcome it. The pleasant fall, as nice as it was has overstayed it’s time. This is New England and we need that bracing, purifying edge to the days that only winter can bring. This is the season of winter finches gleaning the trees, the Snow buntings cascading down to rummage through the sand and dead grasses at the side of the road; for the Rough-legged Hawk roaming and gliding the air; hovering over the fields, looking for an unwary rodent. It is time to stand up against the relentless chill of a wind coming off the water in order to search the waves for the usual winter ducks and hoping for a prize alcid or Kittiwake or some other surprise from the land of ice and snow. It is time to find an imperious elegant Snowy owl perched patiently on the low staddles out in the marshes, watching as the rising tide drives his prey into his hungry merciless clutches. There will be mornings where the wind will pierce through my heavy coat. There will be those days when a hard storm will blow down and drive even the heartiest birder indoors, relegating us to watching the feeders. It will be hard but it will be natural and I look forward to it.
Then there will be a time when the cold and bleak winter grow old and wearing. There will be a time when our attention will turn to funding those first touches of spring. The call of a Red-winged blackbird, the first Killdeer of the year and we will wait impatiently for the first soft touches of a southwest wind, when we can dream of warblers in the trees.. But now winter has arrived and I, for one, welcome it as I welcome the marvelous hearty birds that struggle and thrive in its heartless grip.