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May 05, 2011 - We return home and so do the birdsSUFFOLKTIMES.COM I MAY 5, 2011 We return an Yes, there s no place nxe nome. What a difference in climate: Florida with its semi - tropical weather and its 80- degree water temperature, and then up here, the North Fork with its cold, miserable rain and cooler weather. But all that is going to change as spring has sprung. As soon as we reached our beloved home in the woods and stepped out of the car, we were greeted by the calls of the red - bellied woodpecker, the white- breasted nuthatch and, in FOCUS ON NATURE r PAUL STOUTENBURGH the far background, the call of the red - winged blackbird, who was al- ready defending his newly found turf. om I so do the bl*rds n* °at ar i' r h iy pn ,gyp "�f b � 4 p r ar � ¢ r�,r`"r����",x" "���� x�r�� ✓ 1� BARBARA STOUTENBURGH PHOTC To attract these colorful black - and - yellow goldfinches, consider getting a special thistl feeder. This bird is a late nester, for it feeds its young with seeds that are most numerous lat in the season. Look for goldfinches feeding on your lawn when the dandelions go to seed. es, it was good to be home. t ne -xt morning we rose early to look ier the pasture that lay below us. was overcast and dreary, but that idn't stop the birds from singing their carts out. How can they do that when )nditions are so miserable? Yes, the )bin was running across the lawn, ►e tufted titmouse and nuthatch were L the feeders and a pair of cardinals ,as playing the courting game. All that day we kept a record of the irds we saw. For six months there had een no feeders until the ones our son lied at 1 p.m. the day we arrived, and it ias like opening Pandora's box, with an rray of birds that somehow had been Ad this was the place to be. The noisy ttle finches, along with the English parrows, a dove and the noisy blue jay, cratched below the feeder, picking up eeds that were spilled from above. In between all the activity of the ether birds there was a continual lifting in and out by the chickadees. I hink of them in the midwinter as the cowling winds and low temperatures weep across the country. Where wer( hey during those nights? How did hey survive the cold of last winter? Chey didn't just migrate in; these are ,esident birds like the woodpeckers. somehow they had found a place to stay. I hope it was one of my bird boxes ?erhaps more than one would go in ind snuggle down among the others, let their heartbeats drop and, yes, they would have made it through the night. Thinking about it reminded me of the time I was on a bird count on Gardiners Island and I walked over to an old fisherman's shack on the soutf end of the island. I walked into the doorless structure and looked arounc at what was once a busy place, with stove and sink and an old frying pan. I walked over to the stove and lifted the lid and there in a small circle, curled up one behind the other, were deer mice spending the winter huddled together, awaiting spring. Back to the chickadees — I was talking about them keeping warm overnight in the cold, wild weather. Where was all the food for them? Nature has provided them with a bill that can maneuver deep under the bark of trees and pick out tiny insect to provide them with survival food si Days after our arrival home, new birds were added to our list. A small flock of colorful yellow- and -black goldfinches, recognizable by their up- and-down flight and soft, sweet lyri- cal song, arrived to enjoy our special thistle feeder. Then we had a real treat as we ate breakfast: An eastern phoebe, a mem- ber of the flycatcher clan, sat on our patio railing. He must have had thin pickings for his meals of flying insects, for it was still cold and raw outside, with temperatures below 50 degrees. This bird was not the only one scurrying around for survival food. The long, pointed bill of a house wren worked over the patio bricks, where there must have been something in the crevices, for it picked away and en moved along and finally flew off. Ut course, our big treat came when a pair of ospreys flew over our windmill, one landing on it for a while, looking it over. Perhaps they were part of a new generation still looking for a nesting site. Let's hope we'll see them back Within a week our pasture has turned to green, the star magnolia that my dad gave me some 65 years ago was alive with its pure white, and, of course, the forsythia outshown everything but the daffodils. The discouraging part of our return was the damage done by deer. We pur- posely built 300 feet off the road on 7 1/2 acres of woodland in hopes that it would bring us a little closer to nature. This idea prevailed for many years, but during the winter, I guess, when food was scarce, the deer devastated every bud, leaf and shrub between our house and the road. Now we seem to be on the highway, with all the noise of the traffic that was once so sub- dued by our woodland buffer. It is as if someone had set out to clear the land — everything is open. In the evening a week after our return, we could hear the familiar sound of the spring peepers down at the pond. How reassuring their call is, for we look forward to them each year. Their calls let the world know that nature has swung around full circle and is ready to start again bringing us the wonders of the natural world. Nothing is more uplifting on a winter's day than the sound of the tiny chickadee's song. With a little patience, you might be able to entice one to your hand with sun- flower seeds.