Puffins…

It’s not always the obvious that is the source of danger for the birds. On Craigleith, famous for its puffin colony of ten thousand breeding pairs, the population of what is undeniably the cutest and most comedic of all seabirds fell in a few short years by 90 per cent because of tree mallows, giant invasive plants whose roots make it impossible for the birds to dig the burrows where they incubate their eggs and raise their young. Ever since the calamitous fall in numbers, volunteers have been working to eradicate the mallows. In spite of the efforts of more than a thousand supporters of the puffins, the mallows persist, though their numbers have been reduced sufficiently to allow the puffins to start rebuilding their colonies. They’re a welcome sight; it would be a hard heart that didn’t feel a rise in its spirit at the sight of a puffin.

Val McDermid, Winter: The Story of a Season (Atlantic Monthly Press, December 30, 2025)


Notes:

Nothing astounding, but everything beautiful.

Nothing astounding, but everything beautiful.” (Jonathan Buckley, One Boat).

First major snowfall. 5:00 to 5:30 am. 32° F. Heavy snow. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.

Don’t miss other shots from this morning’s walk here.

T.G.I.F. Shivering on demand

“A bird’s bill is not insulated. Nor are its legs and feet. So all those vulnerability points tend to be smaller in species that winter in cold zones — scaled down as a result of the natural selection process across countless generations.”

Feathers are the first line of defense against weather, Mr. Sibley said in a recent conversation, and besides enabling flight, “they’re streamlining, waterproofing, windproofing, coloration — all those things.” And down feathers, the soft, fluffy kind closest to the bird’s body, he added, are “the most effective insulation known.”

Using tiny muscles where their feathers attach to skin, birds can raise and lower them, thickening the insulating layer around their bodies, he said, “like putting on an extra jacket or getting into a sleeping bag.”

Also thanks to feathers, a bird can tuck in its most vulnerable body parts, particularly overnight. Heads are turned so beaks can be buried into the shoulder-like scapular feathers atop a wing “to reduce heat loss and recycle warmth in the same way people do when breathing into cupped hands,” Mr. Dunne writes. By perching on one leg, the bird can pull the other up into safety, conserving more heat.

Another cold-defying strategy of birds is shivering on demand to raise their body heat — that’s what chickadees do to emerge from torpor.

Small birds lose about 10 percent of their body weight each night year-round while at rest…

Margaret Roach, from “How Birds Survive Winter Cold” (NY Times, Jan 29 2025)


Photo of Sparrow taken at 6:45 am at Cove Island Park. 22° F, feels like 17° F. Feb 21, 2025. More photos from this morning’s walk can be found here.

12° F. Looks….?

AMAZING….Wait for it.

Not Yet

Morning of buttered toast;
of coffee, sweetened with milk.

Out of the window,
snow-spruces step from their cobwebs.
Flurry of chickadees, feeding then gone.
A single cardinal stipples an empty branch-
one maple leaf lifted back.

I turn my blessings like photographs into the light;
over my shoulder the god of Not-Yet looks on:

Not-yet-dead, not-yet-lost, not-yet-taken.
Not-yet-shattered, not-yet-sectioned,
not-yet-strewn.


Ample litany, sparing nothing I hate or love,
not-yet-silenced, not-yet-fractured, not-yet-
Not-yet-not.


I move my ear a little closer to that humming figure,
I ask him only to stay.

Jane Hirshfield, “Not Yet” in Come, Thief: Poems“. (HarperCollins, April 5, 2011)


Notes: Photo of Red Northern Cardinal on January 1, 2025 by DK at noon in backyard. Poem via having a poem with you.