The Aftermath

Passing of the recent killer Arctic cold front (January 29-31) was immediately followed by two days of solid thawing with temperatures into the upper 40s. To see the aftermath, I wasted little time before venturing onto the home trails. There was still plenty of deep snow, but rapid melting left the exposed ground mushy and wet. After the interstellar-like cold, 45 degrees with calm breezes actually felt warm. But the air was damp, and ground fog hung low over the surrounding farm fields still covered with snow, like smoke slowly drifting over a recently burned prairie.
        I walked among the survivors. The green of the eastern red cedar trees appeared deeper, more alive. Tufted titmice and Carolina wrens sang as if it were a warm day in May. Blue jays emitted curious short musical calls that my scientific mind struggled not to label as “happy.”
        Skies were still gray, but among the gray were hints of deep blue-gray, a sign that lighter times were beyond the grayness. It was as if I had awakened from a fitful sleep, my eyes still not completely focused, throwing off the covers, the smell of fresh brewing coffee in the air, the bright sun seeping through closed blinds.
        Then as I saw my overwintering red-headed woodpecker on its territory within the black locust grove, I felt the warmth of gladness. Storing a cache of mast last fall enabled its survival thus far this winter, but there was much of the cold season in front of us. And more Arctic air screaming down from the Pole would surprise no one. If the woodpecker died from starvation and cold, my only clue to its fate would be not seeing or hearing it for days. And then I would not know for sure whether it perished or simply moved on.
        Before turning back toward the house, I stopped at our honey bee hive and was gladdened once again spotting several active bees around the hive’s entrance. They also made it through the snow drifts, the wind, and the cold! And just at that moment a group of greater white-fronted geese called from above, heading northward, flying close together in a classic “vee” formation. Another good sign.