When the North Wind Blows 



By A. A. ALLEN, Ph D., Assistant Professor of Ornithology, Cornell University 

 With photographs by the Author 



THERE is something incongruous about birds and snow that appeals to 

 one. The association of birds with flowers and green trees is so much a 

 part of man that when a flock of Larks whisks by in a snowstorm, or 

 when a tiny Chickadee perches on an icicle near his window, it gives him a 

 thrill quite out of keeping with the weather. So strong is the association of 

 ideas in the human race that it is difficult to convince some persons that there 

 are birds that really thrive in cold weather and that prefer braving a northern 

 winter to migrating to the sunny South. Some even think that the birds found 

 in winter are the poor weaklings that have been left behind, which must there- 

 fore be cared for until spring. 



If most of us were asked the best time to study birds, we would answer, 

 with one accord, May, the month of migration, when the woods and fields are 

 teeming with birds and the air resounds with their songs. Perhaps it is, at 

 least for those who need the inspiration of balmy air and music and abundance 

 of life. Certainly none of us can escape the charm of bird-migration. But the 

 student of the home-life of birds can hardly wait for the migration to cease and 

 for the birds to begin nesting. And when the nesting-season is about over, in 

 August and September, and song-birds become uninteresting to most people 

 during their molting, there are the mud-flats, the marshes, and the shores that 

 attract the water-birds. What joy it is to lie in wait for the returning Sandpipers 

 and Plover and to stalk the Herons and the Rails! Then comes the fall migra- 

 tion, often with many surprises, and, following it, the winter, the time to get 

 out the camera and the time for the beginner to practise to his heart's content. 

 For the winter birds and the feeding-stations offer numberless opportunities, 

 and there is no chance for the catastrophes to young birds that sometimes 

 result when inexperienced persons try to learn bird-photography in the summer. 

 Each winter brings something new, and the sport never becomes monotonous. 

 What if one has photographed a Chickadee fifty times before? Each winter it 

 behaves differently, and one can always improve on the pictures he already has. 

 One year there is an invasion of Evening Grosbeaks; another year if is Lapland 

 Longspurs; last winter it was Northern Shrikes. It is never twice the same, 

 and the problem of getting the different birds to pose for their pictures will 

 occupy more than the leisure of even the most resourceful, winter after winter. 

 There are two general methods of procedure in winter photography: 

 The one, baiting the birds up to you at permanent feeding-stations, and the 

 other, going after particular birds and baiting them on their own ground at 

 tcm{)orary feeding-stations. In the first metliod we usually establish a number 

 of feeding-stations early in the season in promising places and keep the food 

 replenished. The regular winter birds soon find these, and if any unusual ones 



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