By KAREN MADORIN
Nothing like a good storm starting with ice and ending with blowing snow and arctic temps to bring in the birds.
While warmer than normal days and plentiful sunshine highlighted late fall and early winter, a first week in January storm countered those non-wintry days that had encouraged birds to forage naturally rather than rely on backyard feeders. Upon arrival, that more seasonal weather delivered hordes of birds to our feeders and heated water dish. Their appearance invited the local Cooper’s hawk to join the feeding frenzy.
One thing we’ve learned over decades of putting out seeds and suet for neighborhood birds is you also feed raptors who take the term bird feeder literally. This familiar female has lived nearby the four years we’ve been in this house and is the reason we installed protective netting over our chicken coop.
We hadn’t seen the old girl or our usuals while the nicer weather afforded them opportunities to fill their bellies in the wild. Once that storm blew in, it didn’t take long for the regulars to crowd the feeder for dinner and a drink.
Because we leave plenty of summer garden growth standing, they also nibble seeds, perch high to scan the horizon, or duck and cover when their nemesis flies by. That day they darted unconcerned amongst the feeders, gobbling sunflower seeds and grain.
During the first day of the storm, the little brown birds—sparrows, starlings, and black birds flitted in and out of dried corn stalks, tomato vines, and sunflowers between visits to food and water. Watching them out the window, they didn’t act like a predator roamed the vicinity. It made me wonder if our resident Cooper’s hawk had left town.
By mid-morning Sunday, we knew better.
Our freshly-filled dishes stood abandoned. It didn’t take long to spy our resident raptor perched on a stick near the asparagus bed where she actively tugged feathers from something larger than a sparrow but smaller than a Eurasian dove.
She’d positioned herself so I could see only her backside and not the feast she intended to devour. While her body blocked the gory details, sharp winds blew feathers in every direction as she used her precision beak and talons to harvest protein necessary for survival. Arctic gusts not only blew her prey’s feathers about, they riffled her head, wing, and back as she swallowed life-sustaining calories.
Part of me felt sorry for her target. However, the side that loves raptors cheered her on.
Ice, sleet, snow, and wind worked against every one of these birds. Ask any traveler or first responder standing outside in that storm, and they’d tell you it was miserable. During the peak of this storm, we received a text from some state entity telling us not to travel unnecessarily. Duh!
We didn’t drive anywhere. Instead, we stood in our dining room, watching creatures fighting wind, moisture, and frigid temps. All of them desperately needed fuel to survive. As I warmed my feet on the furnace vent, sipping morning coffee, gazing out the window at Mother Nature’s spin on the movie Frozen, I admired this hunter’s skill and wished her well.
Karen Madorin is a retired teacher, writer, photographer, outdoors lover, and sixth-generation Kansan.