A Flurry of Activity

by Em
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I don’t know if birds feel a change in air pressure or if they are just big fans of the Weather Channel, but my feeders are always very active before a snowstorm.

One day last week as the sky turned gray and you could almost smell the snow in the air, a flock of starlings appeared. It’s an understatement to say I wasn’t very happy to see them. Once you’ve been “made” by starlings your yard becomes the local café, and you’re stuck donning your apron and serving coffee until spring.

As I was busy shooing them from the feeders, a flock of Mourning Doves fluttered down from the tree tops. Moments later the thistle feeders were covered with goldfinches.

I was doing a count for Project FeederWatch that day, and it was getting a little difficult to keep track of everyone. As I moved from window to window, more birds appeared. A beautiful pair of cardinals joined the Mourning Doves. My new Tufted Titmouse friend arrived, grabbed a peanut and flew to the nearby hickory tree to cache his treat. The nuthatches and woodpeckers weren’t far behind.

As my bird count neared 100 I decided to spy on the juncos. I’d tossed some millet and safflower under the arborvitaes earlier in the day. When I peaked out my tiny kitchen window I was surprised to see the ground covered with dark little shapes. There were juncos all right, but they weren’t alone.

It was nearing dusk—in winter that’s about 4 p.m. for us (grrrrr)—so it took me a few minutes to identify all the little blobs. It’s not unusual for me to host a dozen Juncos at a time, but I was looking at 4 times that many birds. I leaned in for a closer look. I was astonished to discover that the juncos were joined by House Sparrows—35 of them to be exact. Clearly the word had gotten out on the impending snowstorm.

The next day (or 8 inches of snow later), my bird count was back to normal. The House Sparrows had returned to their shopping center parking lots, and even the starlings were nowhere to be seen.

It will be interesting to see what happens the next time the forecast turns ugly.

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