Winter’s Onset

Sweeps of snow blow sideways off roofs, creating a white vista below. Unseen in the day, rabbits scamper — safer from predators in the night. It is comforting to know they are still here. My lilac bush is filled with clumps of snow, appearing to have a second blooming, its shadow on the ground lovely in the streetlamp. Avian and animal life are fascinating during this season. 

I learn that goldfinches appear to be year-round residents, however, there are actually two groups, those which migrate south in winter and those that travel south to us from Canada in this season. Tiny juncos, active birds which arrive here from the north in winter, feed on slim new trees, their dark backs and white bellies in concert with the snow-painted branches. 

Three resident wild turkeys move swiftly over a patch of grass, laser-focused on food, nonplussed by any human behavior. They are quite stunning in their subtle coloration. 

Crested merganser ducks, in startling black and white, arrive from the north to forage, diving into the rushing river after heavy rains. The females sport a rusty-colored, swept back hairdo, as if styled by the wind. They are very small and fast moving, delightful to watch.

As a massive group of Canada geese take off as one, honking loudly, two young deer exit the edge of a forested area to nibble on arborvitae and small trees, just as the sun sets. One is oblivious, the other stares directly into my eyes, ears alert, interested, but unafraid, as I sit in the car just a few feet away. It feels like a mirage, a tranquil unexpected encounter. as this day closes, and they slowly wander off. 

Starlings are migrating through in droves, on their way to warmer climes for our winter months, beginning to show their myriad seasonal white dots. At the cemetery, they swoop up in small flocks, land on trees, and scatter down to the ground again. In Europe they amass in the hundreds of thousands, forming amazing shapes in the sky to deter predators such as falcons. Even in smaller groups, they are mesmerizing in their synchronized take-offs, which they perform here repeatedly before moving on from the area.  

We see several Northern flickers, woodpeckers, with their white rump patches and lilting flight. I meet a local birder who tells me they are never here in the winter. Yet again, we seem to encounter effects of climate change, as many species seem confused by the weather. He also tells me there are pileated woodpeckers here — a lifelong search for me, and I get to see my first large bird at the top of a naked tree. Not ‘up close and personal,’ but I see that unmistakable red crest atop a huge dark bird with white stripes on the head and neck! A first for me. They overwinter here in tree cavities, so there may be more opportunities to see them. 

One day we see three peregrine falcons in different locations — atop a tall tree, and soaring on air, wingtips up, patterned undersides beautiful in the light. These are the fastest animals on earth, diving to knock their prey, other birds, out of the sky. 

These skies have been fascinating lately — rain clouds turning to deluges, mackerel skies indicating more rain, large clouds near the sun painted unnatural pinks and greens, fog layered over the Boston skyline, and that eerie light on houses and trees after a storm. Yellow houses glow with that Hopperesque color only he and, evidently, nature can produce. Unbelievable sunrises and sunsets, captured by many, as they are so extraordinary, shimmering red and gold. And a double rainbow. 

A lone goose lies on a dock by the partially frozen river, head tucked under the wing, so peaceful, meditative. And a pair of swans in a small patch of live water, a few feet apart, are immobile, floating, asleep. It is these moments which bring us out to observe nature; we never know what we will find when we just step out the door. 

Near the edge of the water, a small tree sports an aged fungus, a mushroom which has hardened over time. It is white on top, deep red underneath, with a fold over the edge, actually the only edible part. Evidently when well prepared, they have a distinctive, rich umami flavor! 

I have the opportunity to witness a pair of red tailed hawks beginning to create a nest in a tall white pine. They come and go frequently, one carrying a stick in its beak from a nearby deciduous tree to the nest tree. There, the mate is waiting to arrange it. Once this phase is finished, they will collect soft natural materials to line the nest in preparation for eggs. There are so many vicissitudes in nature, but perhaps this pair will produce a successful clutch. To me, a nest is a hopeful sight. 

Blue jays are plentiful in the cemetery, ever vigilant regarding their territory. A small group harasses a large hawk, which flies from tree to tree to evade them. The large birds are not agile in the air, so pose less of a threat to the bothersome jays. 

After a light snow, there are now patches of green as well as cooler areas dusted with white, as if a confectioner had sprinkled powdered sugar over them. It is a seemingly quiet, bleak, uneventful day, yet more falcons soar above, and two young deer dash headlong in front of the car, just feet away, to a small wooded area, in daylight. It is such a sudden encounter it takes one’s breath away. 

Just when we imagine this nature visit is over, back at home, a juvenile bald eagle flies hard over my neighbor’s house, very low, distinctive, rushing in the direction of the river, in the blink of an eye. 

These young birds have to learn so many skills to hunt live prey effectively. They are actually larger than the adults, growing more feathers to enhance their ability to learn. Another strategy is to seek roadkill, “easy prey,” until they have honed their adeptness.

Some of our days now are dark or dreary, cold, or uninviting, yet our wildlife carries on, feeding to migrate, or overwinter, or beginning to breed, or arriving day by day to spend this wintry time with us.