Birds in the bitter cold

Our backyard bird feeder, ever entertaining in winter, had the usual visitors, though some of the tweeters showed their dislike for the few days of bitter cold. 

The chickadees were quicker to dart in, beak a seed and return to the apple tree to crack it and gulp the meat. 

The yellow and purple finches and assorted brown groundbirds took refuge in the small brush pile in the vegetable garden, disappearing from sight if nervous, sometimes perching in a row on a long branch that had fallen off a maple tree during one wind blast.

One morning, Donna was amused to see a half-dozen little birds sunning themselves, and the young squirrel also on a branch, similarly posed so as to blend in with the birds.

I’ve often asked the furry raider, through the window, “Are you a bird?” 

Apparently it thought so.

•  •  •

When it was below zero, one unusually pudgy tufted titmouse waddled across the feeder. And Donna became concerned about a nuthatch that had a bent wing and stumbled awkwardly. It was apparently just thawing itself out, as it soon popped back into its usual shape and selected a sunflower seed.

Research shows that birds keep warm in several ways. They have a higher metabolism than humans, and therefore a higher body temperature, around 106 deg. F (40 deg. C). 

Birds eat as much as they can. They puff their feathers to create air spaces as insulation. Oil on the feathers is water resistant.  The scales on their legs and feet lose heat less quickly than their bodies. They can constrict blood flow to their extremities through some sort of inner valve. They have fat reserves.  

They tuck their heads to warm their beaks. They bask in any available sun. They shiver to generate short-term body heat.  They buddy up to share warmth. Through interior thermostats, they lower their body temperature. They will seek out shelter in a brush pile or coniferous tree.

One thing I don’t do enough of is provide water for them to drink, even in bitter cold.

Birds appreciate a well-filled feeder in the worst of times. Whenever I take new seed to the feeder, the chickadee thanks me with a dee-dee-dee. And just the other day, so did a nuthatch, with a nyuk-nyuk. 

They notice.

The writer is an associate editor of this newspaper.

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