There is a pattern to the seasons and there are many events that can be predicted with great accuracy. There is also great variability to the seasons and there is always something a little different that makes each year unique. It is the latter category that brings such great richness to the life of a naturalist — the something new and surprising in the otherwise old and dependable.
For this past winter, the most interesting new pattern is the fact that I have seen red-winged blackbirds in every month. Prior to 2016, there was always a short period of time when the red-wings disappeared, usually from November to March. It appears, however, that the recent El Niño has resulted in something of a shift.
This is actually the second winter in a row that has seen red-winged blackbirds present in every month. Granted, there was usually only one male to be seen, which can clearly be explained away as an individual bird that decided to stay for the winter and exploit a reliable food source (meaning me) to make it through the bad weather. So, day after day, month after month, a lone blackbird joined the other birds at my feeder and managed to survive along with the chickadees, goldfinches and cardinals.
The traditional arrival date for red-winged blackbirds is usually at the very beginning of March. Going through my bird lists for the past 13 years, I find that the box for red-wings remained unfilled until March for the first 11 years. Unfortunately, I didn’t record the actual date of those first sightings on the data sheets, nor do I particularly feel like going through the raw data books for 11 years, but think it sufficient to say that early March is the timeframe we’re looking at.
This year, the birds cooperated with perfect timing. It was on Friday, March 2, that the red-winged blackbirds arrived in large numbers, and this actually makes a great deal of sense. The last half of February was a roller coaster of crazy weather. Sunny and warm one day, snowing the next, followed by another stretch of very warm, spring-like conditions. It actually felt like winter may have given up for the season, but then the nor’easters started up.
Friday, March 2, was the first of three powerful storms. It blanketed portions of the northeast with more than a foot of snow. I was home from school that day, and the numbers of birds at my feeders skyrocketed with the sudden arrival of common grackles, brown-headed cowbirds and red-winged blackbirds. Even more important was my first sighting of a female red-winged blackbird, which is a bellwether for spring. All of the birds were hungry and there suddenly didn’t seem to be enough room on my deck.
Less than a week later, the second nor’easter crashed upon the region. Location was everything and altitude in particular had a huge affect on how much snow piled up. I measured 15 inches on the table where I eat dinner during the summer. Some had less snow, others had more and this pattern continued into the third nor’easter that hit last week. A call to Berkshire East ski area revealed that 30 inches of snow had fallen and it was still snowing. I shudder to think of that much snow in my driveway.
Tomorrow is Tuesday, March 20, and winter should finally be over. I realize that snowstorms don’t necessarily conform to our human-imposed schedules, but I would be quite satisfied if that was the end of the nor’easters. Winter certainly didn’t give up easily this year, but her sister will take over and, if we are lucky, Spring will be in a good mood this year.
I happened to snap a particular photograph that captured the mood I was feeling during one of our recent storms. A female red-winged blackbird is perched in the top of a lilac bush. Her pose (one foot grasping a stem while the other grasps dried out flowers from the previous spring) is quite normal for a bird that lives among the vertical stems of cattail marshes. The fact that she is surrounded by snow is also somewhat normal, but to me this particular female appears to be staring right at me and asking, “Really?”
I realize that this sort of personification will irritate the hard-line scientists out there to no end, but they need not scold me too energetically. Our greatest living naturalist, David Attenborough himself, is a master at finding this sort of connection between humanity and the rest of the natural world. I am convinced, down to my very bones, that if he were here, he would absolutely agree with my take on this particular situation. The female red-wing, pragmatic in her movements and eager to see open water and greenery on her breeding grounds, is staring at the camera and saying, “No more snow! It’s enough already.”
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 20 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the U.S. Forest Service and Massachusetts State Parks, and currently teaches high school biology and physics. Visit www.speakingofnature.com for more information, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.