Spring snow, winter birds

As the snow melted away to almost nothing, fewer and fewer redpolls showed up at the feeders.  Also, to kind of wean them away from dependence on the feeders, I didn't fill them as often, and the redpolls that did show up seemed content to pick through what they had spilled onto the ground over the winter.  But I knew they were around because every time I ventured outdoors I could hear their songs filling the woods.  With fewer redpolls, the chickadees and nuthatches took advantage and came back to pick through what remained.

Then overnight from yesterday to today, about five or six inches of snow fell and covered everything.  Figuring whatever natural food and what was on the ground near the feeders was now under snow, I filled them this morning.  When I went out I noticed right away no songs came out of the woods and there wasn't a redpoll in sight.  A single chickadee tested all the feeders, found what he wanted and flew off to crack open a husk.

As soon as one feeder had seeds in it, I noticed the bird sounds in the woods had picked up.  By the time I reached the second feeder, 30 or 40 feet away, redpolls had already found the first one, and likewise as I proceeded from one to another until by the time I had finished, maybe 50 were squabbling over seeds again.

Ten minutes after I came indoors not one was visible and the yard had no motion in it whatsoever.  Something must have spooked them, probably the neighbor's cat that I frequently have to chase.

I have had another sighting as well.  I was sitting on the porch at the East Pole a week or so ago and enjoying the sunlight.  When I shovel snow off that deck, I always leave a pile for melting to make water.  When the wind blows, these little brown what I thought were seeds blow off the birch trees and land in the snow.  I think those are called catkins and they are what redpolls eat when there are no feeders around.  I watched seven of them land on the deck and begin picking up all these little brown tidbits. My first thought was they followed me there, knowing they could find food if I were around.  Silly, of course. Every time I would scrape a layer away to take some snow indoors it would expose another layer of the catkins and back the birds would come.  As they did, I began to wonder what else I was drinking besides melted snow.  Not a pleasant thought, but boiling should take care of it I figure.

So, now, thanks to a late winter snowfall, I have the redpolls back in big numbers and am almost to the bottom of the tenth 40-pound bag of feed.  I had hoped that was the last for the year, but maybe not.

Saga of a redpoll invasion