The blue jay’s call is almost lost in the roaring wind and its bright blue plumage barely visible through the blowing snow. I look out the window and sigh. What happened?
Only yesterday, it seemed spring was on its way. The sun was setting noticeably later. Snow on the road was melting, leaving the South Shore’s pavement bare. Winter was losing its grip.
But oh no. That lovely interlude that usually hits in February with springlike weather and which I call “first spring” appeared for only a tantalizingly brief time. Today, old man winter returned with more snow and frigid temps and blizzard-like winds.
Duluth and Twin City weather people are gleefully announcing that February has been the snowiest month since records were kept. I personally am not thrilled with this status and don’t believe I’m alone in this feeling.
I’ve put out sunflower seeds and peanuts, but most of the birds are staying away today except for that one hearty blue jay. Normally, a flock of red-polls swarm on the ground picking seeds and pine grosbeaks swoop from trees to the ground, feeding. However, they are staying put on this blustery day. The only other robust souls are chickadees. Nothing seems to stop them.
I look around, wondering how our “pet” nuthatch couple is doing. Normally they watch for us to step outside and then swoop down to our open hands to grab the peanuts we provide. Hardly a day passes when they don’t appear. Today’s wind is stopping them.
I introduced readers to them at winter’s beginning when they first landed on Dick’s hat, then moved down to his outstretched hand for the peanuts he offered. These two birds are so darn cute, we can’t help but feed them. We always make sure our pockets are filled with peanuts before we go outside. We dare not be caught without them.
The two birds often perch in the large spruce tree in our back yard and wait for us. I wouldn’t call it an “ambush,” but it’s close. One bird has a small white feather tuft on its back. We call it “Tufts.” We call the other nuthatch “Kamikaze.”
Kamikaze loves to fly right at our faces. It’s a little alarming to see a brown streak hurtling at me, but it’s never a problem. The little bird puts on brakes at just the right time and avoids a collision. I quickly grab some peanuts from my pocket and hold out my nut-filled palm which is exactly what Kamikaze wants.
But I won’t see the nervy little bird today. With fierce wind and drifting snow, I won’t see my nuthatches until the weather calms which I hope will be soon. I’d really like to see some spring weather.
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