A White-breasted Nuthatch enjoying a snack at a birdfeeder.
Lucas Adcock
Staff Writer
The first sound of the day at my house isn’t the wind, it’s the thin whistle of a chickadee cutting through cold air, just as the frost begins to loosen its hold on the porch rails. My wife put out a birdfeeder and, might I say, it’s quite the attraction. Late winter is the hardest season for these little avians, the icy snow that still hasn’t quite broken apart, and the bits of ground that are exposed are like miniature mud-lakes. February freeze-thaw spells are what locks food beneath the snow, leaving the early migrants that arrive well before the plentiful amounts of insects, with no easy access to food.
Feeding birds just before spring approaches is a fantastic way to support breeding conditions in the different species and helps those early-returning migrants refuel for what’s to come. It’s a little-known fact that small birds must consume up to 10% of their body weight daily just to survive cold nights. Despite them being incredibly fragile and lightweight, that is a lot of food to consume during winter months.
Living in Appalachia, and more specifically, Pocahontas County, there a few birds to be on the lookout for – and which I’ll go into more detail on later – especially if you plan to put up a bird feeder: the Black-capped Chickadee, the Tufted Titmouse, the distinctive upside-down tree climber – the White-breasted Nut-hatch, the stubby round ones that we call the dark-eyed Junco, the Blue Jay, and the beautiful Northern Cardinal to name a few. The Northern Cardinal males typically begin to sing earlier as the daylight lengthens, announcing a strong early sign of spring.
Above, a tufted titmouse perched on a birdfeeder. At right, a Black-capped Chickadee.
Feeding birds in late winter isn’t about replacing wild food, though. It’s about helping them bridge the gap until spring catches up. A steady, reliable food source can help resident birds maintain their body condition and give early migrants a boost when they arrive. If you’re going to feed, keep it simple and do it well – black oil sunflower seed is the most versatile option. It’s high in fat, easy to crack, and attracts a wide variety of species. Tube feeders work well for smaller birds, that’s what my wife and I have. Platform feeders are ideal for ground-feeders.
Another seed, White millet, can be scattered lightly for birds that prefer feeding on the ground. Nyjer seed is great for finches. In general, you want to skip breads, salty scraps, or anything processed. It doesn’t help, and it can actually do harm to the birds.
Clean your feeders every couple of weeks, especially during wet weather. Mold and bacteria spread quickly in our damp conditions. A simple bleach solution (one part bleach to nine parts water), followed by a thorough rinse and dry, is enough to keep things safe. It’s a small effort that protects the birds you’re trying to support. And as the season turns, you’ll likely notice a familiar group showing up before telling their friends about the new attraction.
The boldly curious Black-capped Chickadee is usually first to the feeder, darting in for a sunflower seed – which, by the way, provides a great source of garden food for birds if you plant them for the summer – before retreating to a nearby branch to crack it open. Close behind may be the Tufted Titmouse, often traveling in loose flocks with chickadees during winter months. They perch, then hop, then fly away with only what they need.
Watch for the White-breasted Nuthatch, which has the odd but unmistakable habit of walking headfirst down tree trunks; and the bright red Northern Cardinal stands out vividly against late-winter snow, making it one of the easiest birds to spot this time of year. Beneath the feeder, you’ll likely see flocks of Dark-eyed Junco. Often nicknamed “snowbirds,” many of these sparrows will migrate north to stay with the snow as spring settles in. Better them, than me. Meanwhile, the American Gold-finch slowly transitions from its muted winter olive to the bright yellow that most people associate with summer. Suet feeders may draw in the small but rigorously determined, Downy Woodpecker, tapping steadily at the feeder.
Soon enough, other voices will join the mix. Red-winged blackbirds return to wetlands. Eastern phoebes reappear near barns and bridges. Insects hatch. Buds swell. All of it as our time zone shifts on its regular axial-tilt of planet Earth. And gradually, the urgency fades, and you get up one morning, make a cup of coffee, and you can walk outside without having to put on 12 layers. The deck is warm, clean except for the bird food that has collected on the ground. And only a slight tinge of the wood stove’s smoke as it prepares for its long nap.
One of the unexpected benefits of feeding birds this time of year is just that – how clearly it marks the transition between seasons. You start noticing the subtle changes first – the increase in song, the shifting plumage, the day the juncos suddenly seem fewer in number. It becomes less about filling a feeder and more about watching the county wake up. The patterns are beautiful, but strange in a sense that they feel almost robotic. Perfected.
By the time true spring arrives in Pocahontas County, the feeders may empty more slowly. Natural food will return to fields and forest edges. But those late-winter mornings – cold air, longer light, the steady traffic of wings in the yard – will have carried the season across its narrowest bridge. And sometimes, that small act of keeping seed in a feeder is enough to help carry it along its way.
