Our Wetland in Winter

We moved to our house in 1994, 31+ years ago. Our backyard abuts a large wetland that froze enough each winter that we could walk, snowshoe, or ski across to the woods on the other side. This opportunity lasted about ten years, then ended for two reasons: the land across was sold for a housing development and winters got warmer. The wetland stopped freezing solid enough to hold our weight. 

Wandering the frozen wetland in winter provided access to nooks and crannies of the shrub-dominated shoreline and hummocks not easily visited unless I wanted to get really wet and mucky. A wonderful benefit of this past cold December is that "our" wetland has frozen solid once again. An early morning light dusting of snow provided just enough traction that I could bare boot across the wetland today. 

Animal tracks were covered with the fresh snow, but were still discernable: coyote, deer, cottontail rabbit, mouse. A mix of sun and clouds. Bluebirds backlit, flew among the tall alders. A few bird nests tucked low in the buttonbush clusters, topped with snow. The beaver lodge frozen solid. Quiet solitude. 

The shrubs stand dormant with more than two months before buds can burst in Spring. Speckled alder bushes hold male and female flower buds that formed at the end of last summer, as well as last year's cones and new leaf buds. I share the alder's anticipation for warm Spring days.

 A speckled alder. 
Above: long, male catkins and female flower buds
and leaf buds along the stem wait for Spring. 
Below: last year's fruits (female cones).  

A buttonbush casts its shadow on the canvas of fresh snow.

A Tiny Nest

Two friends recently traveled to Ecuador on a 5-day birding trip, where they tallied 275 species, including 41 different hummingbirds. Here in New Hampshire we have just one species, the ruby-throated. We cherish this little beauty, especially when it visits our summer gardens and nests somewhere in nearby trees. We see them zoom here and there but never track their visits to a nest.

A few days ago I was looking at a mature red oak tree in our backyard and thought I spotted a tiny nest. With leaves mostly gone from hardwood trees and shrubs in winter, it is fun to spot bird nests and ponder which bird built the nest. Clues include nest size, materials used to build the nest, height above ground, and how the nest is situated on a branch.

This afternoon, after Henna and I finished a 3 mile road walk, she wanted to spend some time in the pen in the backyard. We entered from the back and there on the ground under the mature oak tree was the tiny nest. It is the cutest of nests, about 1.5 inches across and an inch deep, made of cattail fluff on the inside and tree lichens on the outside plastered like icing on a cake. The nest is the same size as a pecan tassie or a mini muffin. 

Today's treasure in our yard. 

 

 

Embracing Winter

Some winter days we yearn for a get away or extended visit to a warm climate. Last Monday was one of those days. It rained all day, ruining the snow for walking and animal tracking, and was just miserable. All of December felt unusually cold, but I think I've gone soft. A cold, not warm, December should be the norm here.

A dusting of snow on New Year's Eve covered up the ice, making it slightly more treacherous to walk, but it also restored winter beauty to the woods. I spread a little extra bird seed to help the birds get through the icy, cold spells and build up a little fat against the blustery winds. We don our extra clothing and venture out with Henna regardless of the temperature, choosing trails or the road based on conditions of the day. A fire in our wood stove is bright and cheery and keeps us extra warm and cozy. 

Yesterday I listened to Ezra Klein's (NYT) podcast with Stephen Batchelor, author of books on Buddhism and meditation. During part of the interview, Bachelor explains the four tasks in Buddhist teaching: 

1. Embrace life

2. Let go of reactivity

3. Dwell in the non-reactive space

4. Cultivate a way of life, a path

There are many lessons threaded throughout this conversation that I will continue to explore. I especially appreciate that "doubt" is an important tenet and is to be embraced as it leads to curiosity and awakening. He quotes a Buddhist aphorism: “Great doubt, great awakening. Little doubt, little awakening. No doubt, no awakening.” I always have doubts.

My immediate response (although maybe I am supposed to pause first) to this podcast is to embrace winter. Batchelor notes that Task 3--dwelling in the non-reactive space is nirvana. He goes on to say that, 

"people I know who have no interest in meditating have had experiences where all of their muddled and worried thoughts, for some reason, just die down. People might find this in doing sports, for example — running every day. They might find it by going for hikes in the countryside or just working in their gardens. There are all manner of activities we do that have nothing to do with meditation in a formal sense but are moments whereby, suddenly, we find we are at peace with ourselves. That, to me, is the nonreactive space."

I appreciate this take, as I find joy, inspiration, and spiritual guidance in nature. Rather than yearning for heat and humidity in January in New Hampshire, I am embracing each aspect of each winter day. The full moon rising. Ten turkeys scratching the snow for tossed seeds. An Accipter snatching a starling from our yard, slamming it a few times on the ground while a large crow arrives to intimidate the hawk, the starling reviving and hissing at its foe. The Accipiter releasing the starling that flies off as the crow gives chase. Life carries on. 

New yard birds for 2026

19. American crow 

20. sharp-shinned hawk (based on size and shape) 

Mammals to date:

1. gray squirrel
2. red squirrel
3. eastern cottontail
4. white-tailed deer 

2026 Day 1 - First Evening Grosbeak

A new day, a new year, an inch of fresh snow with new flurries through the morning, and a glimpse here and there of blue sky. Around 7:45 this morning I looked out at the feeders and saw a large goldfinch in the crabapple tree that looked too big to be a goldfinch and thought, "a female evening grosbeak!" Birders in northern and western New Hampshire have reported sightings of this favorite bird for several weeks or longer. It's an eruption year due to poor food sources in Canada, so I've been on the lookout for grosbeaks. A wonderful gift for one to arrive in our yard this New Year's Day.

I watched the front yard from our dining room on and off all day from sunup to sundown. We tallied an amazing number of bird species: 18 for the day. Surprisingly, cardinals, so plentiful a few weeks ago, were absent. Three crows that had been visiting regularly were also missing today. But it was a joyful mix of birds that shared the bounty of sunflower seeds and beef suet.

In decreasing order of abundance in our yard today: European starling (13), northern junco (12), wild turkey (10 - our regular flock, arrived at 9:45), house finch (9), black-capped chickadee (5), eastern bluebird (4), purple finch (3), tufted titmouse (3), downy woodpecker (3), American goldfinch (3), red-bellied woodpecker (a pair), mourning dove (2), white-breasted nuthatch (1), hairy woodpecker (1), blue jay (1), and three favorites: evening grosbeak! (female), northern flicker (female), and yellow-bellied sapsucker (female). 

Only two gray squirrels ventured out. The wind kicked up around noon so they must have stayed snug in their tree nests. 

A gray squirrel track intersects the tracks of songbirds.

2025 Year End

The month of December and 2025 closed out on a cold and mostly cloudy winter day. Here's hoping that in 2026 we find more joy, compassion, community, and spiritual guidance in nature.

We are thankful for our home that brings in lots of light and offers many windows into our yard to observe wild things. During the growing season we share our garden bounty with rabbits, chipmunks, deer, and an occasional woodchuck. An opossum wanders through year-round, taking refuge under one of our sheds. The moles tunnel just below the surface of the grass, aerating the lawn, while skunks forage for grubs leaving small divots in the yard. 

I set out two wildlife cameras -- 20+ year-old so not the best imagery, but it documents the night-time visitors. Two deer, a mother and fawn, visited often, and a small buck a few times. 

Rabbits are the the most common night-time visitor -- at least three and sometimes a family, but 2025 did not seem to be successful as we saw few young bunnies. I was excited to capture a black bear, gray fox, opossum, and a very large raccoon. A Halloween pumpkin and sunflower seeds from the bird feeders attracted white-footed mice,and a flying squirrel.

The flock of ten turkeys visited once or twice a day since August or so, stopping twice today. The young ones have grown. Based on their breast feathers, it looks like 5 females (brown-tipped feathers) and 5 males (black-tipped feathers). Some of the males are starting to show a small bump on their legs that will grow into spurs as well as the hint of a snood and other head ornaments. 

The bird feeders went up around December 1st. A day too early as a bear or two found them. Thereafter the temperatures dropped and the bears, presumably, tucked into their dens for the winter. A female yellow-bellied sapsucker continued to visit the suet, staying later than usual. Others have reported the same. 

Our gardens survived and flourished despite cold rain in May and drought in late summer. But it has become hard to grow any Brassicas due to the abundance of cabbage white butterflies. The garlic crop was successful with a new crop of 197 bulbs planted on November 2nd. Soon, it will be time to peruse seed catalogs, plan the garden, and dream of warm soil and green shoots.