Winter Water, Winter Birds

Column from February 25, 2010 issue

The brook that flows down through our neighbor's woods to the lake is a favorite spot in any season. It twists and turns around moss covered rocks, and glides under fallen tree trunks. In a few low places, its banks are so low the water flows out wide and shallow before it finds its way again and reforms into an organized stream. I walked down to the brook this morning in the hope of seeing water swirling around delicate ice formations, catching sunlight in beautiful patterns, but the surface of the brook is frozen and there were no crystal sculptures to see. The stream's music was there, though, trickling under the ice, and in one spot I could see where the dark water rose and swelled, changing shape constantly, just below the frozen surface.

Today there were the usual errands to be done, but I decided to put my binoculars and spotting scope in the car, just in case there were any birds between our house and the grocery store. I was ready to see something other than the goldfinches, chickadees, nuthatches, and woodpeckers who visit our feeders, and I was especially eager to see water that wasn't locked away under ice. Ever since the lake froze over a couple of months ago I have missed seeing water that sparkles and moves, and the color of the water as it changes throughout the day.

There is open water in the small jewel of a millpond at the foot of our lake, where I stopped long enough to count thirty-five mallards and one black duck. The pond reflected the blue sky. Water seeped out of the dam, covering the surface of the pond with delicate ripples that blended with the graceful concentric circles created by the ducks. Bright sunlight played over the water, lighting up the plush velvety green heads and bright orange legs and feet of the handsome male mallards.

Two crows glided down onto the snow at the edge of the millpond. One walked over to the water, dipped his beak, and then flicked his head to toss up a shower of silvery water over his shoulders. He stepped into the shallow water, fluttered his wings, and dunked his head. The second crow followed suit, and for about a minute both birds splashed, tossing the glistening water over themselves and getting a good bath. Then they flapped their wings and flew up into the air, shedding drops of water as they rose. The crows were not the only birds attracted to the water. A few small birds with little crests on their heads flew up out of a patch of pale dried cattail stalks into the trees overhead. When I looked through the binoculars I discovered they were cedar waxwings, and counted more than twenty of them perched on the branches.

I left the mill pond and drove to a causeway in a neighboring town, where a large volume of lively blue water rushes under a narrow bridge and keeps one end of that pond open all year. A considerable amount of traffic rumbles over the bridge, but no one else stopped to notice more than fifty mallards on the open water. When I set up the spotting scope and scanned the edges of the lake, I found a few black ducks mixed in with the mallards, and three herring gulls who stood nearby on the frozen sand bar. Then I spotted three pairs of common goldeneyes diving for food, most likely aquatic insects, crayfish, small fish, and aquatic vegetation. We tend to see goldeneyes only in winter, and it is always fun to watch these energetic ducks.

Finally, it was time to pack up my scope and binoculars and head to the grocery store. What a treat this day had been. I had found a variety of beautiful open water and interesting birds, and still had time to finish my errands.

Follow Student Sports