The Joys of Winter

The pine tree next to and above our bird feeder array was genuflecting to the gods of winter. A mix of rain, ice and snow wrapped its needles in crystalline cocoons. Our usual suspects were feeding with a frenzy at all the feeders and on the ground. Nine species, one food source, no fighting. It seems the bad weather brings out the best birds—as well as the best in birds.
The squirrels, of which we have too many, though their variety this year is better than at other times, were challenged by the ice. Fitting that well-used definition of insanity, which also applies to fly fishing, they were doing the same thing, over and over, expecting different results. Grey, red, black and brown, the kaleidoscope of squirrel fur went up the trunk of the tree, out onto the branch and, zippppp! They would either grasp in desperation for the hook that held the feeder, or accept their plight and imitate their cousins, the flying squirrels, and try to make a graceful landing.
Because I had to go out, I was hoping the ice storm would end. Because I was enjoying one of nature’s greatest shows on ice, I was considering another cup of coffee.