Winter's Wonders : A Closer Look at Nature's Resilience
- Posted on
- By Kendell Zarda
- 0
Living in town only offers a glimpse of nature’s winter preparations, but if you look closely, you can still see the shift, even amidst houses and roads. The first noticeable change is a slowing of movement—unless, of course, you catch sight of those leaving before the chill sets in. Red-winged blackbirds gather in massive flocks, chattering and gossiping about their warmer destinations. Will they bask on the beaches of Central America or simply settle in the southern states? Thousands strong, they speckle the blue sky, moving in tandem toward their chosen destination.
Not all birds migrate, however. Some embrace the full swing of winter with remarkable adaptations. The nuthatches and chickadees are hard at work, flickering back and forth from feeders to carefully chosen hiding spots for their treasure troves of seeds. Imagine the items you might misplace throughout the day—car keys, wallets. Now consider the chickadee, which can remember nearly a thousand different hiding spots for its seeds. I think of this every time I lose my cell phone at home; this little bird has earned my envy.
The nuthatch, with its long feet and powerful little legs, is the only bird that can walk effortlessly down a tree. It hops along, moving up and down as it stores seeds in the bark. Meanwhile, the junco—a fluffy, round bird with a top half that looks dipped in black ink—makes its winter home in Wisconsin and other northern states. For them, this is paradise compared to the brutal winters of Alaska and northern Canada.
Even squirrels—regardless of your opinion on their antics—become noticeably bolder and fatter as winter approaches. It’s a spectacle to watch a particularly plump squirrel, one that has mastered the art of acrobatics, leap from a thin, sagging branch. With limbs splayed, it hurtles toward the feeder, defying the odds. The feeder, despite the strategically installed squirrel baffle, sways from the impact. Typically, this would prompt me to fetch my slippers and utter a few choice words. But when I opened the door and felt the chill of winter creeping in, I decided perhaps a few extra sunflower seeds wouldn’t hurt. After all, I’m the one enjoying a cozy 70 degrees and protection from the biting wind.
As the world slows down and winter’s chill envelops your town, don’t miss the movement outside your window. There, you’ll find creatures enduring the cold in their own ways. And perhaps, like the red-winged blackbird, you can take solace in the fact that a tropical vacation remains a possibility—someday.
Comments
Be the first to comment...