Sketch and story by Tom Godin,
December 21, 2001

Yes, Timmy there is going to be a Christmas Bird Count in 100 Mile House but it will be after Christmas which is allowed by the rules of the undertaking. The count must be held within 2 weeks of Christmas day.

When will it be? On this I am a little vague because I shall be out of town on a festive task, eating and drinking the fruits of my relatives’ labours. If I had to come up with a date for the count I would guess December 30, a Sunday and a darn good time to get some fresh air whistling between your ears before the next big wing-ding the following night.

A 15-mile radius circle is the focus of the bird count. This area roughly covers from Skaday Bridge on Horse Lake Road to 111-mile Creek on Highway 97, and from just west of Forest Grove in the area of Lower Lake Road to some distance past the 100 Mile dump in the west.

If you wish to take part in this annual event then e-mail me with your phone number and I will see that you are called at least a few minutes before the actual event and given the details.

Don’t worry if you are a little rusty on bird identity, the more smiling eyes in the field the merrier. Seeing the birds is all essential, then comes identity. This is a good day to hang with some seasoned bird veterans and tramp the snowy wastelands.

Theory Me

Theories mean a great deal to me. I have been heard to say that when you run out of theories it’s all over, ‘it’ meaning any reason to go on living. Sure it sounds extreme but I imagine I am in the centre of a game and not trying to figure out the rules seems a little passive. Luckily, my theories can survive on the slightest gruel of fact so I am rarely without them.

However one event around my bird feeder had me at a loss to come up with a good theory. When it snowed very few birds came to my feeder. It was as though some invisible door slammed shut. On sunny days birds swarmed about swinging on branches and spending hours keeping the shrubs shaking with their antics.

At first I turned to self-recrimination as a response to this snow-snubbery. Someone nearby, I speculated, had a bigger and better feeder than mine, and when it snowed the birds were content to make it to that mammoth feeder and forget about journeying further to find my puny offerings. I had nothing to build a theory on in this case. I didn’t even have a shade of evidence to develop even a scatterbrained case for conjecture.

Today it snowed. Once again I knew there would be no birds to speak of. The big feeder would swallow them up again and I would sit at the window all day, my breath steaming up the narrow pane, only to find that at sundown the day would have passed and hardly a bird would have come calling.

I positioned myself at the window expecting little, but on this snowy day something new happened. In the flicking of a Chickadee’s tail feathers a big theory appeared right out in front of my eyes.

I could suddenly sense that the Chickadees and the Nuthatches as well, were moving at a frantic pace. When they dashed to the feeder tray on the pole in the middle of the yard they turned instantly and made for the dark copse of trees behind the shed. Each bird did the same thing. Their feet actually shot seed out as they scrambled on the seed deck trying to get airborne and beat it back to the forest. To a bird, the few that came to the feeder tray moved like their tails were on fire. Many of the Chickadees chose to fly to the hanging feeder near the dark grove of trees because it was a shorter distance to return to hiding.

Here was necessary gruel to sustain a solid theory. The theory that became obvious was that when it was snowing the birds were on high alert and were nervous to come into the open for long periods of time.

Could the falling snow make the feeder birds feel less able to see danger? Did they sense that a gloomy day might encourage predators like the Pygmy Owl to spend daylight hours hunting? Regardless the answer, this new perception of their activities gave me grist for a strong theory. Perhaps there was no big alluring feeder where they lounged in blissful satiety when it snowed. Perhaps Chickadees and Nuthatches kept to heavy cover on these days, preferring to avoid long flights over open ground to their usual feeding sources.

I watched all day and when the Chickadees and Nuthatches arrived they continued to move at an accelerated pace. Their nervousness was tangible.

I could feel my new theory working its wonders. It was becoming my new reality. I have now convinced myself that I get fewer birds at the feeder when it is snowing because of a natural change in Chickadee behaviour on these days. These weren’t just fair weather feathered friends. They were employing a strategy to protect themselves so they could come another day. I like theories, they’re like truths that grow in the light of darkness.

The Baked Fruit Brick

I know there are people have absolutely no use for Christmas cake or fruitcake both of which are bandied about during the festive season like a form of legal tender. When I hear people say that they can’t stand Christmas cake I silently wish that I could receive all the unwanted festive cake that makes the rounds this time of year. I do like it very much. I’m not trying to prevent waste or heap guilt on those who don’t particularly like this item, I just want to hoard it all for myself to eat during the year. It gets better with age so taking a while to eat it isn’t a bad thing.

To the people who find themselves in possession of such cake and at a loss with what to do. I make my plea; please let me know that you have unwanted fruitcake or Christmas cake and I will find a way to relieve you of it. Thanks.

Winter Wisdom

Inside every snowman is a puddle trying to get out.