January 25, 2026: Dark-eyed Junco

One of our delinquent birds mentioned last week appeared after this week's snowfall:  the dark-eyed junco.

Juncos are one of our most common and wide-spread species, ranging from New Mexico to Alaska to northeastern Canada, and they are winter specialists, earning the nickname "snowbird".  They're present in New Hampshire year-round, though in the warmer months they stay hidden on the forest floor and at high elevations.  Juncos have some similarities to finches, particularly their beaks, but they're in the New World Sparrow family as they forage mostly on the ground, hopping around on two feet, to collect small seeds which they crack open with their beak using their tongue to maneuver the seed as needed.

They do good job cleaning up the deck, though they aren't very neat diners. 

Searching the snow for dropped millet.

Here's a short video of one cracking a small seed and dropping the shell:

In central New Hampshire, we see juncos mostly in winter after snow has covered much of their food supply, so they come to glean food under the bird feeders.  Here, nuthatches are their best friends.  The White-breasted Nuthatches in particular do much for the juncos as they shovel piles of small seeds from the feeder onto the ground while mining for the biggest nugget in the seed mix.

"This one will do."

We received a few inches of snow this past week which got me out on the skis for a short trip along the lake and up to the White Mountain Ledge.  Snow caught in a tree on the shoreline with a bright blue sky behind caught my eye and helped me notice one of the natural sources of food for juncos in deep winter:  Yellow Birch seeds.

Catkins on a Yellow Birch Tree.

These seeds aren't a staple of the juncos' diet because they don't pack a lot of nutrients, but they stay on the branches above the snow cover and they're better than nothing, becoming a factor in winter survival.  Hemlock cones, which also stay on their branches into winter, and which we saw the red squirrels dining on last week, are another source of winter food for juncos and other birds.

Heading into the woods for the ledges behind Lake Wicwas, I found a winter wonderland of snow-draped forest.

The January thaw is over.  Now we're heading into the deep freeze - yesterday's high at the Lake Wicwas Weather Station was 6.6 degrees F.  Along with much of the country, a polar vortex is sending New Hampshire a blast of cold air down from the north.  And it will usher in a good snowfall, beginning this afternoon.  We may get over a foot of light fluffy snow which is a whole lot better than the severe hit of wet heavy snow and freezing rain the storm may bring to areas south of New England.  With a long stretch of cold weather to follow, there may be some longer power outages in parts of the country, which makes a foot of dry snow look pretty good!

Looking north from the White Mountain Ledge.

Keep safe and warm this week, and don't forget about Pond Hockey on Meredith Bay next weekend.

March 24, 2024: 115 Ring-necked Ducks

Advance notice, this is another long entry.  It was one of those weeks with so much going on - ducks, beavers, snow, timberdoodles - I don't know where to start.  I guess a couple of follow-ups should be first.  One or more Red Crossbills have been hanging around since my first sighting in early March, and one appears to have found itself a mate.  The two stay near each other but the female is less bold so I haven't gotten a picture, but I did get a good look at the male. 

A Red Crossbill in a Red Maple on Wednesday.  (Note the buds!)

Another follow-up goes all the way back to January 21st when I heard Pine Siskins and noted that NH Audubon predicted the pine siskin would be the finch of the year.  I can attest to the foresight of that prediction:  All winter long I heard these these loud and boisterous birds just about everywhere I went, and I'm still hearing them.  I was able to get a recording of both of their distinctive calls so when you're out and about you'll recognize it:

The highlight of my week was an evening visit to Page Pond to see if I could witness the strange mating practice of the American Woodcock, also known as the timberdoodle.  I've seen woodcock during the day on the wet trail just in from the field at Barnard Ridge Road, using its long pointed bill to probe around in wet soil in search of worms and other edibles.  But it's their nighttime courting behavior I was in search of this week, and I knew they might be in that area.

I arrived just after sunset and sat near the edge of the transitional forest between the field and the woods and waited.  It was almost dark when I heard the first nasal "peent" of the woodcock.  Soon I heard a couple more farther away in the field, and then a dark flying object sped right past me and landed in the field perhaps 30 yards away.  I knew it was a woodcock when it started to call:  peent... peent.... peent.  After a couple of minutes of this the bird took flight and I was able to watch it circle around in a large pattern over the field and the small trees gaining altitude higher and higher, emitting a musical burbling song from its wings, until I lost sight of it in the darkening night.  And that was a disappointment, because that's just when it was about to start its crazy decent back to earth.  Supposedly the male woodcock will drop in a twisting, almost deadfall decent, slowing his fall just before he hits the ground, right back where he started.  Apparently this wild behavior impresses the girls.  

I didn't see it land, but knew it had because soon it started again:  peent... peent... peent.  I saw him take flight one more time, but after that it was too dark to see.  But he continued this for another 15 or 20 minutes as indicated by the peenting and burbling that I heard.  I never saw him fly off, but when the music ended I knew he was done.  Did he get the girl?  

Another male was still at it somewhere off in the field, but I was cold and headed home.  I didn't get to witness the fall of the timberdoodle, but I got a pretty good taste of one of the more interesting mating rituals in the New Hampshire bird community.  Next time I'll try in the morning when the day is brightening rather than getting dimmer.  I don't have my own photo of the timberdoodle, but here's one from NH Audubon:

The American Woodcock.   Photo: David Nelson/Alamy

Another exciting event occurred on Friday - that cold, windy day before the storm arrived.  As the sun rose over the lake it revealed a huge flock of ducks all grouped up on the far side of Marion Cove, tucked in behind the lee of the land to get out of the brutal 20 mph wind.  The air temperature was 18 degrees.  It was too dark to see what kind of ducks they were but as the sun rose it became clear they were ring-necked ducks, and there was well over a hundred of them!  

This is only a portion of the flock.

On one count I got 115 and on another 117, but there were even more hidden behind a point of land that I couldn't count.  They must have flown in the day before and sought out the most protected part of the lake to spend the night, and they ended up staying all day.  

Linda observed there were two groups.  One consisted of apparent pairs, a hen and a drake staying close together and behaving calmly.  The other group was a jumble of males and females (more males than females though) that were much more active, especially the drakes.  Our hypothesis is that these birds had not yet paired up and the males were doing their best to convince a female to accept them as their mate.  As the day progressed, warmed, and calmed somewhat, the flock spread out and some came closer and gave us a better look at them. 

When a female or two took flight, many others in this sub-group would follow along after them. 

These ducks will soon continue on their way up to northern Maine and Canada to breed.

While the ring-necked ducks were here the much smaller group of Common Mergansers kept their distance - we saw them far away down the lake.  We also saw one pair of Hooded Mergansers in the cove before the ring-necked flock arrived.  

Male hooded merganser

And the female.

They are a pretty bird; these poor photographs don't due them justice, but the goal of the journal is to document what nature is present.  

We're having a lot of fun watching multiple beavers cruise by every night, sometimes giving us great shows with their tail slaps.   One sight that has not been seen however, is a loon.  None of our loon watchers has seen a single one, which is unusual as the loons usually arrive as soon as there are moderate-size areas of open water, often days before ice out.  Perhaps it's because ice out was so early this year.  We'll have to wait and see when they arrive.  Has anyone from other lakes seen their loons yet? 

My comment a couple of weeks ago that old man winter might not be done with us yet was on target and somehow those ring-necked ducks knew what was coming; we picked up almost two feet of snow yesterday which made for some of the best skiing of the year.

A good late winter snowstorm after a very long dry spell.

After having very few birds at the feeder recently, the Juncos - aka snowbirds - came out in force as soon as the snow started. 

Dark-eyed Juncos line up for their attempt at the feeder.

It may look like a blue-sky day, but this was before sunrise using artificial light.

These are not polite birds like the chickadees are; a dominant bird often jousts with the others to keep them away from the food.

Here they are in action:

I heard a pine siskin calling during a lull in the storm in the afternoon and looked out the window to see one perched on the feeder. I was impressed to see this little finch take on the flock of juncos for jurisdiction over the feeder. 

It confronted every junco that attempted to land including one persistent junco that wouldn't back down. 

Eventually the two of them came to a truce, each taking ownership of an opposite side of the feeder.

It was a busy week at the lake.  This morning, with almost two feet of new snow, the lake has filled up with frozen slush and the ring-necked ducks were nowhere to be seen.  I wonder if the timberdoodles' bills are long enough to probe down through a foot of snow to find their worms!

Sunday, March 23 - Winter's back.

November 26, 2023: Ice & Snow, Needles & Birds

I had the good fortune this week to be walking the trails behind Lake Wicwas with a group of friends when we came upon some needle ice beside the trail.  The ground was warm and well saturated from recent rain and snow, and the night before was cold enough to freeze water exposed to the surface, providing the right ingredients for these cool crystals to grow.

Needle ice growing up out of warm, wet soil.

Once an ice crystal is formed on the bottom of a grain of sand, heat from below is transferred through the stone to the air which cools the water beneath it, resulting in more water freezing at the bottom of the crystal.  As the process continues the crystal grows skyward creating needle ice.   

Sand and small stones provide the heat path to start the process.  A few beechnut shells rode up on top.

Late fall is the time when conditions are right for these to form, and it's always a treat to find them.  

On cold, calm nights this week, interesting ice patterns were forming in other places too, such as on the surface of the lake in secluded areas.

These always remind me of Disney's Fantasia, and the fairies transforming water into ice to the music of Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the Flowers from his Nutcracker Suite.   I didn't realize those swirling ice creations were real until I saw these flourishes for the first time with my own eyes.  

Wednesday morning we got our first measurable snow, which thankfully was cleared out in time for the big Thanksgiving travel day.  And as if on queue, that morning the snow birds appeared - a big flock of them.  

Dark-eyed juncos, aka snowbirds.

They were happily picking seeds that were exposed where I had cleared snow from the road.  There are lots of hemlocks and a few while pines over the road here, so those are most likely what they were feasting on.  

We've all noticed how big the white pine seed crop was this year, as have the squirrels.  I came across this huge stash of white pine cones which a red squirrel must have collected this fall.  

A large cache of pine cones collected beneath a large Eastern white pine. 

Then, just a few feet away, were three more piles.

The pantry is strategically located around the dining table where
Mr. Squirrel can safely observe his surroundings while he dines.

This is quite a winter pantry - one squirrel won't go hungry this winter.  I'll try to remember to visit this spot a few times during the winter.

I hope the juncos and squirrels weren't the only creatures that feasted well this week.  I hope you too had a wonderful Thanksgiving with food, family, and friends - quiet, peaceful, and safe.

Happy Thanksgiving from Lake Wicwas.

March 5, 2023: Snowy Steamboat

We spent the past week visiting family in Steamboat Springs, Colorado (thanks for being a great host VP!) where there is definitely snow - 360.5 inches this winter and counting.  In feet, that's 30.  Downtown Steamboat has quite a few sculptures along Main Street, similar to Meredith, though the art work in Steamboat is permanent, not rotating.  And this time of year, they aren't all that visible.  

There's actually a third person buried in the snow - that's what the two girls are looking at.

And maybe that's why we didn't see much wildlife - animals aren't moving around much.  Usually we see a moose or a deer, or at least a fox.  All we saw this week was a different variant of a junco and quite a few magpies.  I believe the junco variant was an Oregon junco, the most widely spread of the western juncos, but I didn't get a picture.  

Oregon Junco.  Photo courtesy U.S. Dept. Fish and Wildlife

Magpies on the other hand were seen often - they are not shy.  Like other members of the corvid family - crows and ravens for example - magpies are intelligent.  They know how to coexist with humans, take advantage of our actions, and are conscious of just how close they can get to us without being in danger.  Crows, which know they can eat road kill just over the white line on a highway without getting hit (usually) have this same ability to learn.

Right along the edge of the Yampa River in Steamboat, a pair of osprey have built a nest on a post set up for that purpose.

Osprey nest along the Yampa River.

But in the winter when the ospreys are off enjoying life in the tropics, a magpie has taken over the spot as its observation tower.

Magpie stationed as lookout.

Magpies perch in the highest spot to observe and defend their territory from intruding magpies.  They are large birds with long tails, and are quite flashy whether they're sitting or flying.

The ski resort in Steamboat has a set closing date every year so as not to interfere with the elk migration, but this year due to all the snow the closing date has been extended a week because those elk aren't going up the mountain until the snowpack melts down.  30 feet is a lot of snow.

We arrived back in New Hampshire just in time to enjoy our own local dump of snow, and it was a good one.  After a few hours of shoveling the snow we've had in the past week I took an excursion on the skis up behind Lake Wicwas on the Hamlin Trails.

It was a beautiful and warm day, full of cobalt skies and brilliant pristine snow contrasted with inky black streams.

Most of the trails weren't tracked out when I was there this morning, but it's so nice today that I expect the popular trails will be packed down by the end of the day.

It's going to be a great week to get out and enjoy late-winter activities in the long days and warm sun of March.

March is my favorite month of winter.

January 9, 2021: Snow and Snowbirds

Last week it was the goldfinches that came out in droves - and they are still here - but this week, along with the snow on Friday, the juncos, aka snowbirds, made their appearance.  

Dark-eyed juncos arrived with the snow this week.

Juncos used to be considered as five unique species but were recently grouped into a single species named the dark-eyed junco.  They're commonly known as snowbirds because they so often appear along with the snow just as they did this week.  I haven't been able to find any concrete data that there is an actual correlation with snow so maybe they're just suddenly more visible against a white world rather than blending into the environment.  Range maps show they're in New Hampshire year round and I do see them at high elevation in the White Mountains during the summer, so they are always here.  They also breed farther north in Canada but don't remain there in winter, instead migrating southward so there are likely many more here when the weather gets cold.

Research has found that females migrate farther south than males do during the cold months.  A theory for this is that because the male locates and defends a pair's mating territory in the spring they need to get back to their breeding grounds first.  The females can come along later after the homestead is settled and just move in with their partner.

Dark-eyed juncos are a member of the sparrow family, foraging mostly on the ground for seeds though in summer they eat insects and will even flit up quickly to catch a bug on the wing - they are quite nimble fliers.

Juncos most often consume seeds.  And yes, birds have tongues!

Their primary feeding area being on the ground may explain why they're seen at feeders when the snow comes - with the forest floor covered they go in search of other food sources.  And perhaps they migrate south as the snow pack advances southward, staying near the boundary of snow and bare ground to find a compromise between access to food and a quick return to their breeding territory in spring.

Even though juncos go south for a warmer climate (they consider New Hampshire warm?) their insulation increases significantly; their feathers increase in weight by 30% in winter.  [Ref:  Birds and Blooms]   Building their nest on the ground, their dark-colored upper body is valuable in avoiding predators and it must work as juncos have long life spans, up to 11 years. [ibid]  Still, like many bird species, their population has declined dramatically, being reduced by a full 50% since 1966.  [Ref:  Cornell Lab of Ornithology]

Before the snowbirds appeared there was some great skating out on the smaller lakes.

Glassy ice before the snow made for smooth skating on Lake Wicwas.

I saw the first bob house on Wicwas on one skating trip around the lake.

The first bob house for the year on Wicwas.

The larger lakes are still open with very little ice cover on Meredith Bay, but there's still plenty of time for it to freeze over before the big Pond Hockey event on February 4th - 6th.  Even on the small lakes there are still open holes around the edges where streams flow into the lake.

This is the place to look for signs of otter activity!

On Tuesday, also before the snow, I took a hike up the Turtleback Mountain trail in the Ossipee Range on a crystal clear day.

The Turtleback Mountain Trail will be void of snowmobiles until the snow cover increases.

Heading down I stopped for a drink of water and set my pack on a large rock.

That's when I noticed, alive and thriving in a crack in this boulder, in the cold of winter, were a few tufts of green grass!

I'm sure the sun warming the rock with its large thermal mass helps keep things warm, but it's still an impressive feat for a small plant to be eking out a living in this tiny fissure in the cold of January.  And it shows that by hiding in this seam, a few little grass seeds escaped the beaks of those seed-seeking snowbirds.  

Whether mother nature brings us rain or snow, snowbirds or skatebirds, there's always something to see and do in the Lakes Region.

The low January sun backlights a majestic red oak.