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February in Nature

from Mohawk Valley Living 87 February 2021

by Mohawk Valley Living

from Mohawk Valley Living 87 February 2021, page 13

Article from: Mohawk Valley Living 87 February 2021

Local Photo Club

NATURE in february

story and photos by Matt Perry

Most of us experience winter birdlife from the comfort of our living rooms or kitchens. Indeed, peering out our windows at bird feeders can afford us candid views of birds and other wildlife. We essentially use our houses as observation blinds and the food we put out as bait to lure subjects into view. We then enjoy serendipitous visits of animals to our yard; the creatures have no idea they’re being observed. Those of us that get seriously into watching our feeder birds soon realize there is much more to know about birds than simply recognizing field marks and identifying species, although those skills are important to master. Observing behavior is key to gaining a more profound understanding of wildlife and how they interact in their environment. Keeping stocked feeding stations is something a few of us do yearround, but most do only in the winter. Of course, that’s the time animals benefit most from supplemental food sources. By providing food for birds and other animals we remove some of the vagaries of their dependence on an often-unreliable natural food base. In nature, the supply of food in the form of seeds, fruit, and nuts varies greatly from season to season, year to year, and from region to region. There’s no doubt that feeding animals allows a greater population to inhabit an area. As many could not persist without the extra food. In other words, our feeding stations allow more chickadees, cardinals, finches, squirrels, and many others to survive the winter in our region and near our homes.

I’ve been watching bird feeders for close to half a century, and I’ve never gotten tired of it. The feeders we have at our nature preserve are varied and spread out over many acres. Visiting and filling them daily has given us an excellent window into what birds and other animals do in the depths of winter. Black-capped Chickadees are plentiful in the Northeast and quite common in the Mohawk Valley. These non-migrant, winter residents are frequent guests at almost every one of our feeding stations. Interestingly, each small Chickadee flock (usually composed of one or two families) carves out their own winter territories within the preserve, and a few overlap with territories belonging to neighboring flocks. As I travel from feeder to feeder, the flock leaders of each group greet me as I approach their territorial border. With much vocalizing, they will often then usher me over to the feeding station within their claim. I sometimes refer to this as the “ice cream man effect”, likening it to children’s response to hearing or seeing an ice cream truck entering their neighborhood. Chickadees are more gregarious and friendly than the average songbird and having them chase after you and sometimes land on you is a most gratifying experience.

Some of our feeding stations are as simple as a wooden post that we put seed on top of. Something as basic as that is enough to pull in a loyal clientele of animals. For a long time, I’ve tried to determine if Chickadees coming to the feeders Chickadees at a fencepost feeder

have a pecking order. I believe they do, but with most flocks, the pecking order is not vigorously enforced. It tends to seem that the most aggressive individuals get first dibs at the feeders. These more assertive birds could be considered the flock leaders or the alpha flock members. They are probably synonymous with the flock’s breeding pair(s) and the ones more likely to scold or chase away any foreign flock member that invades their space. Watching these individuals, I’ve never known them to prevent others in their flock from getting a share. The best I can determine is that their higher rank entitles them to get the first share if not always the largest share. Interestingly, the order in which the rest of the flock feeds is apparently random.

While all Chickadees take their seed and immediately fly off, spending an average of fewer than five seconds on the feeder itself, the places they go with their food varies. Most of them take their sunflower seed or peanut to a nearby branch, far away from fellow flock members. There, they grip the seed firmly in their feet or wedge it in a fork of a branch. If necessary, they free the edible part of the seed from its hull by hammering on it with their bill. It usually takes less than a dozen hammerings to extract a sunflower seed’s meat. After devouring the food, the Chickadee cues up again for another serving. Far from being nasty

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with each other, Chickadee etiquette seems to dictate that you wait politely and patiently for the bird ahead of you to leave before you return for another serving. One February day, most of the individuals I watched ate their seeds immediately, but there were a few preservationists in their midst. Two members out of ten in the flock were opting to store their seeds instead of eating them right away. I watched one of these more responsible birds place its seed beneath a torn piece of elm bark. Sure enough, the same individual came back for another seed. This one he stored in a different location – in a bark crevice on a large Basswood Tree. Interestingly, he was only storing seeds that had their hull intact (not peanuts). Those seeds would surely keep better than ones taken out of their shells. Would these birds be able to recall where they stored their seeds? Blue Jays, Crows, and Ravens do and it’s likely that Chickadees do as well. Why were only two out of ten Chickadees seen storing food? Were they the older ones that had experienced winter before and so were determined to provision themselves for times of famine?

One of the enduring mysteries for me is where my feeder Chickadees go to spend the night. I understand that they retire to tree cavities and that one cavity may host multiple birds and even multiple species. However, so far, I have yet to catch Chickadees in the act of retiring for the night. I have observed Downy Woodpeckers and White-breasted Nuthatches entering their evening hideaways and it happens very fast. Essentially, if you blink you miss it. I must assume that Chickadees are also quick to disappear into their night chambers. The incentive for being fast is clear: The last thing they want is for a predator to know where they are sleeping.

Observing birds and other wildlife in February (or any time) can be a wonderful activity. Critical analysis of what you observe can often lead you down a road of conjecture and to a place of more questions than answers. The available literature on bird behavior is plentiful and can help you find answers, but some things you observe may not be well covered there. We should always remain open to discovering something novel. Understanding birds should ultimately lead us to a more holistic view of them in their habitat. Maintaining feeding stations can be a responsible thing to do, but birds, like all living things, do not survive on food alone. One question we can ask ourselves and have a reasonable chance of answering, is what we can do on our properties to assist birds? What can we do to augment their habitat, keep them healthy, and keep them returning year after year? These are all good things for us to ponder as we experience the last weeks of winter and look forward to a spring resplendent with life. • Male Cardinal