songbirds – In the Woods

at the suet feeder, after the snowstorm

On the last day of January a snowstorm arrived in North Carolina, covering every one of its 100 counties with snow. We got about four inches and I had evacuated my place to get snowed in with my daughter and her family. The next day I put on my boots for the first time down south here, and walked across the yard to Sally’s for a brief visit. We had a lovely time there birdwatching outside her windows. We saw a couple of kinds of birds I hadn’t seen in quite a while, along with the regular backyard birds.

(female) purple finch, with an atypical yellow throat

A female Purple Finch with a yellow throat is an uncommon, atypical color variation of the species, often described as having a pale, yellow-tinged patch on the throat, breast, or rump instead of the usual white and brown, likely due to plumage, diet, or developmental factors. These sightings are rare compared to the common white-eyebrowed, heavily streaked brown plumage of typical females.
~ AI

Following the ice storm of the previous weekend, this is the first snowfall, since I moved down here, that has been more than a dusting or a coating of ice. When Larisa drove me home two days later the roads were passable but still dicey in spots. It’s been so cold, with many nights dipping into the teens. It feels like New England and I can’t say I’m happy about that. If I have to live down south I want it to go back to its normally mild winter temperatures!

by the lake

1.12.26 ~ Jordan Lake State Recreation Area
(Ebenezer Church Day-Use Area)
Apex, North Carolina

On a cold January day Sally drove me out to explore one of her favorite birding spots. When we got to Jordan Lake the first thing I saw was a solitary great blue heron. It didn’t seem to be fishing or doing anything in particular, so I took lots of photos before it finally decided to slowly saunter away.

Jordan Lake is a 13,940-acre man-made reservoir with 180 miles of shoreline. The Piedmont here in North Carolina has no natural lakes. There are plenty of rivers and creeks, though, and a few temporary, very small, beaver ponds.

There were some gulls flying around way out in the middle of the lake, and the one above bobbing along the ripples. Too far away to identify. But, much to my delight, when my eyes came back to the shoreline, they landed on a killdeer! Like the heron, it didn’t seem to be occupied doing anything. I finally stopped waiting for it to do something and continued walking along the shore.

late afternoon winter sunlight across the lake

Sally pointed out a clump of greenery way up in a bare branched tree. My guess was mistletoe and it turns out it was indeed American mistletoe. I had no idea there are 1500 species of mistletoe.

Way up in another tree a goldfinch was singing from its perch. A little too far up for my camera, even with the zoom.

After our long walk along the lakeshore we took a mile-long loop trail into the woods, hoping to see ducks in the ponds, but we were out of luck on that idea.

It was nice being around so much water even though it’s not quite the same as the seashore’s salt water and air, which I still miss! And I didn’t realize that some killdeer do live their entire lives far inland, thousands of miles from the ocean. Always more to learn…

eye contact

12.19.25 ~ North Carolina Botanical Garden
northern mockingbird

On a mid-December visit to the botanical garden with a friend there were a lot of birds, all of them strategically avoiding my camera behind twigs and branches, but keeping a good eye on us.

The botanical garden had posted on its Facebook page that a yellow garden spider (aka a zipper spider) egg sac suspended between two Okefenokee hooded pitcher plants had been spotted in the Carnivorous Plant Collection – and we found it.

one side *(above)* and the other side *(below)*

Inside are up to a thousand or more tiny, dormant eggs. Creating this warm silk sac was one of the last endeavors of their mother’s life – yellow garden spider adults usually don’t survive the first hard frost. If all goes well, the eggs will spend the winter safe in this sac, emerging as itsy bitsy spiderlings in spring. … This particular pitcher plant variety is native only to the Okefenokee Swamp in southeastern Georgia. (There’s also an introduced population in North Carolina.)
~ North Carolina Botanical Garden
(Facebook, December 17, 2025)

Quite impressive. Silk is very strong, but can be weakened by wetness and sunlight. Time will tell if this egg sac will make it though the winter. We’ve already had some morning temperatures in the teens.

late autumn lunchtime

11.25.25 ~ red-bellied woodpecker in Arcadia

I am often at a loss for words these days, but a couple of hours of birdwatching with a new friend was a welcome interlude in the grieving process.

The beauty, variety, and unexpected behaviors of birds can inspire feelings of joy, awe, and wonder, which can be a powerful counterbalance to grief.
~ AI

living in a looking-glass world

Isn’t that the broader dilemma too? How, as they say, to walk lightly? Or how to keep our justified stomping — about injustice, cruelties, the various wrongs we might try to right — from drowning out the likes of music, birdsong, our gestures of ordinary kindness?
~ Barbara Hurd
(Listening to the Savage: River Notes & Half-Heard Melodies)

Whenever we go out we pass by this oversized yard sign on our way home. An identical one went up right after the last election and at some point it got so weathered that the homeowner replaced it with this one. Persistence. It reminds me that I’m not the only one who feels like we’re living in a world turned upside-down, a world impossible to navigate.

molting and preening

Sometimes when one is feeling cooped up with summer cabin fever, the universe will send a little gift from the great outdoors right to one’s window. This little molting Carolina wren was sitting on a dead rhododendron branch, singing very loudly and with marked enthusiasm. A bright streak of sunshine bathed him in a magical aura. After I got my camera he started to preen, and preen, and preen.

Just now the wren from Carolina buzzed
through the neighbor’s hedge
a line of grace notes I couldn’t even write down
much less sing.

Now he lifts his chestnut colored throat
and delivers such a cantering praise —
for what?
For the early morning, the taste of the spider,

for his small cup of life
that he drinks from every day, knowing it will refill.
All things are inventions of holiness.
Some more rascally than others.

I’m on that list too,
though I don’t know exactly where.
But, every morning, there is my own cup of gladness,
and there’s that wren in the hedge, above me, with his

blazing song.

~ Mary Oliver
(The Wren from Carolina)

‘Twas my lucky morning! You never know who might stop by. These pictures were taken through a dirty window with my neighbor’s wall and window in the background. I’m glad her shades were closed — there were already enough reflections cluttering up the shots. I’m surprised the photos came out as well as they did.

a fledgling cardinal

It’s been so sweet listening to our cardinals sing this summer, and now they have some youngsters exploring the world around them.

This one seemed particularly interested in our birdbath so I was able to get some fuzzy pictures through the sliding glass doors. He kept picking up and putting down catkins, splinters, and twigs, as if he was learning what might or might not be edible. He never did go into the water, though.

So, art thou feathered, art thou flown,
Thou naked thing? — and canst alone
Upon the unsolid summer air
Sustain thyself, and prosper there?
Shall no more with anxious note
Advise thee through the happy day,
Thrusting the worm into thy throat,
Bearing thine excrement away?
Alas, I think I see thee yet,
Perched on the windy parapet,
Defer thy flight a moment still
To clean thy wing with careful bill.
And thou are feathered, thou art flown;
And hast a project of thine own.
~ Edna St. Vincent Millay
(The Fledgling)

bluebird bath at high noon

7.1.25 ~ eastern bluebird couple in for a bath

male bluebird drying off on the deck railing

young chipping sparrow under the birdbath, waiting for a turn

same young chipping sparrow waiting patiently from the railing
(he/she never did get a turn)

male contemplating a third dip in the bath

the days are hot, hot

“The Summer House” by John Henry Twachtman

Everywhere, from sunup to sunup, the world is full of song. The days are hot, hot, and all the day long I listen to the bees lifting from flower to flower, to the watchful chipmunk sounding its chock chock chock alarm while the red-tailed hawk wheels, crying, high in the sky. I can’t see the songbirds in the dappled light of a thousand leafy branches, but I can hear them calling from the trees.
~ Margaret Renkl
(The Comfort of Crows: A Backyard Year)