December birds - late (or early?)

It's December. The weather's crazy - 74º at 5pm today. The courtyard at work is filled with little trees who have been seduced into budding - when that storm gets here at the beginning of the week they're going to be in for the proverbial rude awakening. But I know winter's here because so are the juncos.

A dozen or so were flying all around the building where I work this morning, and in the little park. I remember when I was a little girl, I thought that juncos were baby mockingbirds - I didn't yet realize that birds don't grow like mammals. But when juncos fly, they flash the same white in their wings and tails as the mockingbirds - it's when they're at rest that you realize they're little gray birds, dark and round and restful somehow. Their white, white breasts blend into the snow (when it's here) and make them look as if they're wading in it.

Another thing I thought when I was young was that "snowbird" was a funny name to give them. "Snowbirds" ran away from the snow - they were people who went to Florida in the winter, right? But juncos, I thought, came here for the snow. I hadn't quite grasped that they must be coming from the far North, and that our little spits of snow - maybe 6" at most, lasting a couple of days - were nothing compared to what they'd have to face in, say, Newfoundland. Some juncos are around all year up in the Appalachians, but down in the valley they're only there in the winter. Same here where they usually come in early November.


This year it's not just the trees that are confused, and the juncos that are late: Wednesday a couple of dozen robins came through; it's really very late for them. Our own left months ago, and most of the migrants came through in late October. I can only suppose that the winter has been slow arriving where these were. Considering the weather coming our way this weekend, they're passing through in the nick of time.