Today I find myself thinking about the birds that still flutter around the yard in this deepening winter chill. Some birds choose to stay through the winter here in Ontario. Black‑capped chickadees remain common, their little bodies fluffing up feathers to trap warm air and keep heat close, and they often store tiny supplies of seeds to eat on colder days. Chickadees and nuthatches can pick at insects hidden under bark or find seeds in conifer cones even when snow covers the ground. Canada Jays, sometimes called Gray Jays, tuck away food in tree crevices during fall to eat through winter, relying on their hidden stores when hunger strikes. Other hardy visitors include juncos and pine siskins that gather seeds from weeds, trees, and shrubs, and even a few robins will stick around if berry supplies hold out. Many of these birds find shelter in dense coniferous trees and hardy shrubs, where they are somewhat protected from wind and ice. These seasonal habits and adaptations help them keep up their high energy needs, because surviving winter means finding food often and staying warm as best they can.
Watching these smaller creatures carry on through cold days reminds me that nature doesn’t disappear just because the season changes. The big flocks I saw in late autumn may be gone or hidden, but in their place are these quieter rhythms of survival, movement, and search for food under snow or bare branches. Even when the world feels quieter and colder, there’s life adapting out there in simple, steady ways if I take a moment to notice.
If today allows, step outside and listen for small calls from the bushes or trees, notice quick flashes of grey or brown among the branches, and watch how birds perch or hop in search of something to eat. Feel the cold and see how even tiny movements of wildlife give character to the winter landscape. There’s a quiet richness in these subtle patterns when we slow down and simply observe.
