Snowbirds

By Keith Michael 

Frequently I’m asked, often from a stance smacking of incredulity rather than of interest, “Do you really go out looking for birds in the winter?” Without hesitation, I answer, “You betcha!”

Most people understand that there are resident birds that stay year-round, that there’s something called “migration” in the spring when birds that have wintered somewhere in the south stop by on their way north for the summer (then vice versa in the fall) and that some birds are only with us during the summer, but leave when it starts getting cold. But it’s usually a surprise for many to learn that birds that have summered near the Arctic Circle find NYC the perfectly tropical destination for their winter vacations.

However, it’s not only the different birds to see at this time of year! Even in a relatively snow-less winter, like ours so far, there can be plummeting temperatures that produce icy wonderlands or moody, stormy seas. In the same week, I’ve adventured to the floodwater torrents pouring over the New Croton Dam at Croton-on-Hudson, complete with a vivid rainbow in the icy mist; seen a scary super-high tide at the river wall in Hudson River Park; and inched through the magical ice sculptures at the Great Falls in Paterson, NJ. I’m not saying that you don’t have to be careful out there. But really, put on layers, do get out, and enjoy the season.

“Well, what ARE the birds that you can only see in winter?” Thank you for asking. On land, the neighborhood “charmers” are the Black-capped Chickadees, Tufted Titmice, White-breasted Nuthatches, and Dark-eyed Juncos. Winter birds tend to have a black-white-and-gray sartorial theme going on—the better to blend in against snow, dark branches, and overcast days. To the contrary, our resident Northern Cardinals and Blue Jays that hang around for the winter are blast furnaces of color against the backdrop of snow. Horned Larks and Snow Buntings are specialty winter birds seen sporadically in specialty habitats. You have to “work” to see them but you’re rewarded by the effort.

By sea, Black-and-White Attire was definitely engraved on the invitations. Common and Red-throated Loons ply NYC’s 520 miles of coastline in the winter. I’ve looked directly DOWN on them from the Hudson River Park piers. Buffleheads are perky, small winter diving ducks that seem resolutely black-and-white on a low-ceiling day, but catch them in full sunlight, and they’re an iridescent palette of purples and greens. On a beach, there are the winter gulls: the bouncy flight of the Bonaparte’s Gulls or the prevalent whiteness of an Iceland Gull; maybe the yellow legs of a Lesser Black-backed Gull will stand out or you’ll be treated to a Gannet-demonium spectacle of a thousand Northern Gannets diving for their supper. Then, there’s the red velvet waiting line to see Razorbills, Dovekies, and Murres (sorry, you’ll have to look them up).

By air, watch for American Kestrels or Peregrine Falcons on the pinnacle of water towers or a long-tailed Cooper’s Hawk terrorizing the neighborhood pigeons. A winter Bald Eagle was recently seen perched on a soccer field light tower on the new Gansevoort Peninsula, dining on an eel. Exclamation point. How I wish I had seen that raptor royalty!

Okay, okay, yes, owls are my obsessively favorite winter visitors, usually brought to NYC by bad weather further north, so they’re travelling here by necessity for the fine dining of our parks and streets. Unfortunately, with this year’s mild winter weather, it’s not been a good season for owls. (I hope that changes.) Shorebirds, my other favorite group of birds, have offered a star visitor to the Hudson River this winter: the Purple Sandpiper.

For several weeks, Hudson River Park’s Pier 26 tidal deck has offered five-star accommodations for up to five of these plump, charismatic shorebirds. When you read “Purple Sandpiper” try not to think of Harold drawing a beguiling purple bird. Perhaps in their summer finery, in good light, they have a purple-ish sheen, but here, under gray skies, their plumage is rather resolutely brown and white, notwithstanding yellowish-orange bill and legs highlights. Looking down at the end of Pier 26 at low tide (or across to the Pier 25 pilings) you might catch one or more of them meticulously foraging along the edge of the tidal pools looking for tasty barnacles or sea lettuce. Don’t mistake our local white-speckled Starlings, picking out the same tidbits, for these visiting shorebirds. Purple Sandpipers are winter-only regulars along the rocky, surf-pummeled breakwaters of Brooklyn and Queens, but having them “nearly” in the West Village at Pier 26 is well worth the walk.

Keep looking for these jaunty birds along the shore of the West Village proper! They might fly north. Let me know if you see one.

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