"The faster one goes, the more strain there is on the senses, the more they fail to take in, the more confusion they must tolerate or gloss over, and the longer it takes to bring the mind to a stop in the presence of anything."
— Wendell Berry, An Entrance to the Woods
With a fresh snowfall and a sky unspoiled by the usual midwinter drear, a hike at Pope Farm Conservancy was not merely a chance to stretch the legs, but an opportunity to engage with the world at its most candid. The birding, too, was a different pursuit. It's far too easy to fall into the trap of accumulating species for the sake of a list, as if the birds themselves were little more than a series of checkboxes. Yet, the true reward lies in observing these creatures with the attention they deserve, understanding their habits and quirks, not as objects to be catalogued but as part of the broader narrative of life. This, I suppose, is what we miss when we race from one sighting to the next: the quiet richness of simply being present.
Along the northern edge of the prairie, where the trees meet the open expanse, a very vocal Tufted Titmouse made its presence known, hopping from branch to branch with an almost theatrical air. Nearby, a small flock of Eastern Bluebirds added a splash of color to the wintry landscape, their vibrant plumage stark against the subdued tones of the snow-covered ground. There was something almost poetic about their quiet gathering, a reminder that even in the starkest of seasons, life persists in vivid detail.
These were probably the same Eastern Bluebirds I saw here on Christmas Day, feeding on this particular cedar's berries. They'll rely on these berries as a crucial food source to get through the cold days, and it's clear they've found this spot to be a reliable place for nourishment—a reminder of how the birds adapt to the harsh winter, relying on what little resources are available. Bluish in color, the berries are actually modified cones—small, fleshy, and packed with seeds.
As weather in Wisconsin goes, it didn't take long for clouds to move in and cover the blue sky, replacing the clear expanse with a more subdued gray. The shift in light made the scene feel quieter, as if the landscape itself was settling in for a colder stretch. The birds, undeterred, continued their foraging, as though they, too, were attuned to the changing mood of the day.
Shhhriiiike!
Other weekend first-of-year birds included several Golden-crowned Kinglets, Yellow-bellied Sapsucker, Northern Flicker, and a Winter Wren. I found a Northern Shrike last week, which was notable since they seem to be less common this winter. While not exactly rare, sightings have been fewer, making this encounter stand out in an otherwise quiet season.
Shrikes so far for this year around Dane County:
All images © 2025 Mike McDowell