For the Birds: Phoebes are back, spring is not far behind

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Photo by Chris Bosak
Eastern phoebes are one of the first migrants to return to New England in the spring.

The bird world is amazing. If you’re reading this column, you likely already know that, but every once in a while something reminds me of just how incredible birds really are.

The other day, March 11 to be exact, I heard the song I’ve been waiting to hear for months: the unmistakable two-syllable song of the eastern phoebe. Like many birds, phoebes say their name, a raspy “fee-bee.”

I turned my head toward the song and instantly saw the smallish songbird perched on a telephone wire. Of course, the bird was bobbing its tail as phoebes almost always do.

It was the first phoebe I saw this year, or my FOY (first of year) phoebe in birding lingo. It came on one of the unseasonably warm days we had, and I wasn’t overly surprised to see the bird. Still, it seemed a bit early for the phoebe to be back in New England, so I checked my eBird account to see when I saw my FOY last year.

Sure enough, it was March 11. The first phoebe I saw occurred on the same exact calendar day as last year. In October of last year, this bird left New England for southern U.S. or Mexico. Sometime in February it began its journey back north and arrived at my place of work on the same day as last year. Of course, I can’t tell with all certainty it’s the same bird, but I’d like to think so.

I always appreciate my first phoebe sighting a little more than my FOY of other birds. To me, the phoebe is the true harbinger of spring. American robins are usually credited with being the first sign of spring, but there are many robins to be seen in New England throughout winter, so I never know what robins are returning from the south and which ones have been here all along.

Red-winged blackbirds return in February, but I don’t get too excited about them because, as a New Englander, I know there is still plenty of winter left. I saw my first red-winged blackbirds in mid-February, a few days before 18 inches of snow fell. March and April can still be pretty nasty in New England, but at least spring is that much closer.

American woodcock, with their early March return, is another good harbinger of spring, but they tend to be more secretive and are not as easily spotted. What good is an uplifting sign of spring if you can’t see it? You can, of course, venture into the woods or a field at dusk to look and listen for their aerial courtship display, or you can wait for a phoebe to appear on a telephone wire above your head.

Now that phoebes are returning, many more migrants will follow. Some will be close behind, and some are several weeks behind, but the spring migration is on. In March, look for the return of ospreys and some shorebirds. I also saw my FOY pine warbler on the last day or two of March last year, but they are more likely to be seen in early April. Pine warblers and palm warblers kick off the highly anticipated warbler migration, which will peak in early to mid-May.

March may not be the most exciting month for birding as migration starts with a trickle and the weather is unpredictable (but usually still cold), but it’s the start of something amazing.

For the Birds: Finally, a column on old bird names

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Photo by Chris Bosak
The eastern towhee used to be called chewink.

Many months ago, or maybe it was years at this point, I promised to do a column on old bird names. 

Quite frankly, I forgot about it and never got around to doing the column. I can’t even remember what inspired me to consider such a column, but I must have been writing about a bird with a relatively new name and thought it would be a good idea to look at other somewhat recent bird name changes. Perhaps I wrote about a long-tailed duck and recalled the old name of oldsquaw. Regardless of the impetus, here’s that column I promised so long ago.

Now, I did write a column last summer about the most recent name changes by the American Ornithological Society. In that column, I relayed that the powers that be changed the name of the house wren we see in New England to northern house wren. A year earlier, I wrote that the three redpoll species were lumped into a single species called redpoll. 

That’s not the type of column I was thinking about so long ago. Rather, I’m going to recall some of the more interesting names that no longer apply to certain birds. Some of these were the official names of the bird and some were just nicknames used during a time when people seemed to have better imaginations and a sense of humor.

Most of the inspiration comes from old bird books I have acquired over the years. One of my favorite books is “Bird Guide: Song and Insectivorous Birds East of the Rockies From Parrots to Bluebirds,” written by Chester A. Reed and published in 1919. My copy is in pretty bad shape, but it’s still hanging on.

Flipping through the pages, carefully of course, yields interesting old bird names such as snowflake, pine finch, English sparrow, white-winged junco, chewink, Myrtle warbler, Maryland yellowthroat, titlark, and Hudsonian chickadee. 

Any guesses what those birds are called today? Pine finch is now the pine siskin. That one was pretty easy. English sparrow is the house sparrow. Another easy one. White-winged junco is the dark-eyed junco, which has gone through a few name changes over the years. In more recent times, it was known as the slate-colored junco. 

Myrtle warbler split into two species, and the eastern bird is now the yellow-rumped warbler. Maryland yellowthroat is now the common yellowthroat. That one was rather obvious as well. 

Not so easy is the snowflake, which is now snow bunting. The chewink? That’s now called an eastern towhee. I would be impressed if anyone knew the titlark is now the American pipit. The Hudsonian chickadee is now the boreal chickadee. 

On a side note, sadly, the book includes entries on the ivory-billed woodpecker and Carolina paroquet (that’s how they spell it in the book), which are both extinct, although many people dispute that the ivory-billed is no longer with us. 

Also interesting is how bird ranges have changed since 1919, most notably how several species moved farther north into New England. That would be another compelling topic to explore in a future column. But I’ll leave that for another day. Or month. Or year.

For the Birds: As it turns out, birds and birders are smart

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Photo by Chris Bosak
Snow gathers on a blue jay’s face during a snowstorm, January 25, 2026, New England. Blue jays, like all corvids, are highly intelligent.

We’ve all heard the expression “birdbrain” to describe someone lacking intelligence or prone to doing dumb things. The definition that pops up when doing an internet search is “a silly or stupid person.”

Birdbrain, of course, is a misnomer because birds are actually very smart.

While everyone has heard of birdbrain, how about birderbrain? I’d be willing to bet not many people have heard that one before. That would be understandable because I just made up the expression for this column.

The inspiration for the new term comes from an article I read recently. The link to the article came from a sponsored post that popped up on one of my social media accounts. I guess it shouldn’t be surprising that bird and nature content floods my social media feeds.

Anyway, the article is from Science Focus, a publication of the BBC. The article, “Birdwatching could help slow ageing, breakthrough study finds,” summarizes a study published in Journal of Neuroscience by scientists from Baycrest Hospital in Toronto.

The article includes a link to the study itself, but I quickly returned to the summarized BBC version, as the study was a bit over my head. And by a bit, I mean a lot. The title of the study is “The tuned cortex: Convergent expertise-related structural and functional remodeling across the adult lifespan,” if that gives you an idea.

So it was back to the article. Thank goodness for journalists for making studies like this comprehensible.

The study, which compared the brain structures of 29 expert birdwatchers and 29 beginners, found that birders were more perceptive, had a greater memory and could pay attention for longer periods of time.

“And, crucially, honing these skills could literally reorganise the structure of your brain and improve cognition,” the Science Focus article states. “Learning of any kind (such as a new instrument or language) is great for your brain, but the research argues that birding skills are particularly good because of their complexity.”

Remember, it’s a BBC publication, so it spells reorganize and aging (among other things) a little differently.

The study itself found that “Compared to novices, experts showed lower mean diffusivity in frontoparietal (SFG, IPS) and posterior cortical (AG, precuneus, LOC, fusiform) areas, along with a trend for more gradual increases in age-related MD.”

Sorry, let’s let the BBC journalist explain: “Scans revealed that the parts of the brain associated with attention and perception were more compact in the expert birders, and these structural changes made them better at identifying birds. Specifically, the water molecules in these brain regions were able to move more freely, seeming to boost their identification abilities, making them better at detecting less familiar or less local birds.”

I still can’t claim to fully understand the study, scientifically, but it certainly seems like a good thing for your brain to go birdwatching and become good at it through practice and perseverance.

One source in the article who was not associated with the study itself noted that perhaps it wasn’t the birdwatching that strengthened perception, attention and memory, but rather people with “stronger cognitive abilities” are more likely to take up birding and become good at it.

No one has ever accused me of being the smartest person in the room, but heck, I’ll take that explanation as a possibility.

Either way, the next time someone calls me “birderbrain” or even “birdbrain,” I’ll just say “thank you.”

For the Birds: Mixed blackbird flock points to spring ahead

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Photo by Chris Bosak
A female red-winged blackbird perches in a tree.

As far as I’m concerned, it’s never too early to talk about signs of spring.

Not that I’m rushing winter. There is plenty to do in winter, and I appreciate all of New England’s seasons for what they offer birdwatchers. But when a sign of spring presents itself, even with several inches of snow still on the ground, it’s hard to ignore.

Unlike plants that may be popping up through the ground but remain unseen due to the snow, birds offer visible and reliable signs of spring. The other day, as soon as I started my walk, I spied several birds flying overhead. In the distance, I heard the familiar and unmistakable songs of red-winged blackbirds.

It turned out to be a classic mixed flock of blackbirds with dozens and dozens of grackles, brown-headed cowbirds and red-winged blackbirds. They join forces, primarily in the winter, for protection (safety in numbers) and to find food sources. I didn’t see any starlings, but they often join those massive flocks.

It was hard to get an estimate of how many birds were in the flock. A few dozen would fly overhead, and then I’d walk up on a tree filled with blackbirds. Then a few more dozen would fly overhead, but I’d see more in another tree down the trail as well.

Red-winged blackbirds are one of the earliest signs of spring as they return from the south to start staking out breeding territory. While some may remain with us throughout the winter, the majority of red-winged blackbirds migrate.

Typically, males arrive a few weeks ahead of the females, but this flock had good numbers of male and female red-winged blackbirds. Female red-winged blackbirds somewhat resemble large, dark, streaked sparrows with a yellow wash around a longer, pointed bill. The flock also included a number of nonbreeding birds.

American robins have typically been known as a sign of spring, but with robins becoming more commonplace throughout the winter, it’s hard to tell if they are returning birds or if they have been with us all winter. Red-winged blackbirds are now a more reliable sign, but their early return can lead to false hope among those wishing for an early spring. (For me, the return of eastern phoebes around mid to late March is the best sign of spring these days.)

As I mentioned earlier, some red-winged blackbirds remain with us all winter as well, but birds in a large flock this time of year are likely migrants. Not many people would describe the red-winged blackbird’s harsh “kong-ka-reee” song as pleasant, but despite not hearing it for several months, I recognized it immediately, and it was, in fact, pleasing to my ears.

Now that at least one sign of spring has been noted, many more will follow, despite the snow still clinging to our landscape. Heck, owls are already nesting. Hawks will start repairing or building their nests. Many more red-winged blackbirds are sure to follow the flock I mentioned previously.

Once the snow melts, and it will eventually, signs of spring will be everywhere. Crocuses will be visible, and daffodils will start poking out of the ground. Trees will start to bud. To me, however, there’s nothing like birds to usher in the change of seasons.

The transition from winter to spring starts slowly with a flock or two of blackbirds and ever so slowly builds over several weeks until one day you’re standing in the woods surrounded by warblers, tanagers, orioles, grosbeaks and many more of our fair-weather feathered friends.

For the Birds: Bird sighting sparks memory of the past

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Photo by Chris Bosak A common merganser swims in a pond in Danbury, Conn., March 2019.

When you have done something for so long, sometimes it is hard to remember what it was like at the beginning. The other day, however, I came across a scene that reminded me of one of my early birdwatching experiences.

The recent prolonged cold spell we endured froze or kept frozen most of the water throughout the region. That makes for a great time to check the areas where water does not freeze, such as dams or fast-moving streams. 

I drive past a large dam frequently and always look at the bottom where the water is constantly flowing. I do this especially during the winter to see if any ducks are gathered in the open water. In the right season and under the right conditions, there are usually several common mergansers in the pool created by the flowing water. 

When I drove by the other day, the pool had shrunk due to the encroaching ice, and only a fairly small bit was left unfrozen. That small bit, however, was filled with dozens upon dozens of common mergansers. It was to the point where you could barely see any of the open water because it was filled by the large diving ducks.

As I rounded the corner and drove along the unfrozen stream, only about one hundred yards away from the dam, I spotted an adult bald eagle perched in a tree overlooking the water. Since common mergansers are one of my favorite birds, and bald eagles are too (who doesn’t love bald eagles?), I was quite excited about the sighting and made sure to tell everybody I came across for the next several hours.

A day or so later, it dawned on me that the scene seemed familiar. Then I remembered a canoe ride I had taken on Powder Mill Pond in Greenfield, New Hampshire, many years ago. We are going back almost 30 years here. During that canoe ride, I saw a massive flock of common mergansers as well as a lone adult bald eagle perched in one of the tall evergreens along the shoreline.

Several decades may separate the two sightings, but the feelings and emotions generated by the sightings were the same. It’s easy to see why the first sighting would have caused such excitement. I was new to birdwatching and bird photography, and, while common mergansers are plentiful each winter, bald eagles were a much less common sighting back then. 

Fast forward 30 years, and both mergansers and eagles are still cause for excitement for me. In that span, I have seen countless common mergansers and dozens, if not hundreds, of bald eagles. But the feeling is the same. Pure joy and excitement.

I consider myself lucky to have found a hobby, a challenge and a creative outlet that has enhanced my days and years as much as birdwatching has. Every time I enter the woods or launch a canoe, I have the same hopeful feeling and anticipation of what I might see during the walk or paddle. Occasionally I see almost nothing; usually I see the ordinary, and every once in a while I see the extraordinary.

Regardless of the outcome, I love it all.

For the Birds: Deep snow, cold not a great scenario for birds

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Photo by Chris Bosak
American goldfinch eats seeds from a spent flower in New England, January 2026.

A ton of snow followed by prolonged freezing temperatures can spell disaster for birds. Luckily, birds have developed several survival strategies to cope with such conditions.

There are several factors at play in these conditions. I will focus mostly on finding food but will address some of the others quickly. 

First, there is the cold. Birds survive freezing temperatures through adaptations that conserve heat and energy. Feathers provide excellent insulation, and many birds maximize this by fluffing their feathers to trap warm air close to their bodies. Birds also have a high metabolic rate, which is fueled by energy-rich foods such as seeds and fat commonly found at feeders. 

At night, birds will roost in sheltered locations out of the wind, and some species will huddle together for warmth. That’s why it’s important to clean out birdhouses after the nesting season so birds have a place to go in extreme conditions. Other birds will simply fly to where it is warmer.

Birds need water to survive as well. In extreme cold temperatures, they will visit birdbaths, unfrozen bodies of water like streams or rivers, or take advantage of sunny days by drinking from melting icicles and snow. On days when I am home all day, I frequently pour warm water into the birdbath to provide a drinking source. They can also safely get water from snow.

Food can be tricky under these conditions, especially for birds like sparrows that find most of their food on or near the ground. All those food sources are now unavailable and have been for many days. I was thrilled a few weeks ago when I saw a goldfinch eating seeds from the dead coneflower heads in my garden. The coneflower stems and heads are completely buried now and have been since that big storm. 

That’s why bird feeders are particularly helpful in the winter. With most of the seeds buried, feeders become an important resource for birds. Studies have shown that bird feeders comprise a small portion of a bird’s diet, but I would guess that it becomes a larger portion in weather like this. My feeders have been extra busy since the storm, especially with Carolina wrens and tufted titmice. I haven’t seen a ton of juncos or white-throated sparrows, however.

Just like birds will leave a region to escape the cold, they will also move far from home to look for food. This sometimes brings unusual feathered visitors to our parts. In the days following the storm, I had a red-breasted nuthatch, fox sparrow, and yellow-bellied sapsucker visit my feeders. The nuthatch has been here for several weeks, assuming it’s the same bird, but the sparrow and sapsucker may have been happily lurking deep in the woods somewhere prior to the storm. The snow forced them to search for food and they ended up in my yard.

I got a message from Dan in Keene last week letting me know that a red-headed woodpecker made a brief visit to his feeder. (He assured me it wasn’t a red-bellied woodpecker.) Perhaps that bird was previously in a place where food was scarce, and its search for food brought it to Keene. 

I didn’t even mention red-headed in my column last week when I referred to all the woodpeckers that live in New England because they are not typically found here. Red-bellied woodpeckers are becoming increasingly common, but the red-headed woodpecker is still somewhat rare. Just as the red-bellied woodpecker is expanding its range northward, perhaps the red-headed will expand eastward.

Sustained deep snow and freezing temperatures is not a great scenario for birds. Much of the food is buried under several inches of snow, and the cold will keep it that way for days on end. The birds have survived these conditions for centuries and have the tools to survive. That said, I’m sure a feeder here and there doesn’t hurt.

For the Birds: Sapsucker make surprise winter visit

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Photo by Chris Bosak – A young yellow-bellied sapsucker visits a suet feeder in New England, January 2026.

At first it looked like a growth on the tall bush near my bird feeding station. I quickly realized it wasn’t a growth at all but rather a yellow-bellied sapsucker hugging a small branch. 

It was a first-year bird, and its dark coloration, lack of red head or throat, and barred plumage made it look like part of the bush. It also caught me by surprise because yellow-bellied sapsuckers are migratory and are not frequent visitors to feeders. It was also perfectly still for several minutes as, from the comfort of my living room, I watched it brave the single-digit temperatures.

It eventually swung a quarter turn around the branch, offering me a view of its profile. Then it darted over to the nearby suet feeder, where it pecked at the frozen cake for several minutes. It returned to the same branch on the bush where I had initially spotted it and remained there for as long as I could watch it. 

The bird was there the next day as well, alternating between its favorite branch and the suet feeder. 

It was the latest uncommon visitor to my feeders this winter, following the likes of a fox sparrow, red-breasted nuthatch and northern flicker. Yes, I’m still waiting for the evening grosbeaks to arrive. 

Yellow-bellied sapsuckers breed throughout New England and up into Canada, but they are perhaps the most migratory of our woodpeckers. They leave in September or October for southern U.S., Central America or the West Indies. I have read that an increasing number are staying in New England for the winter, particularly the southern part of the region. 

Northern flickers are also migratory, but again, some remain here all winter. That is in contrast to our other woodpeckers—downy, hairy, pileated and red-bellied—which are year-round birds here. Black-backed woodpeckers of the north are also non-migratory.

While I was surprised to see the sapsucker the other day, I probably shouldn’t have been. I mentioned nemesis birds in a column a few weeks ago and noted that evening grosbeaks and owls are among mine. I should have mentioned American woodcock as well. Nemesis birds are those that elude you regardless of how hard you try to find them. 

For me, yellow-bellied sapsuckers are the opposite. I hope I don’t jinx myself by writing this, but I see a lot of them. I see them on my walks, in my backyard, and now, at my feeders. This wasn’t the first one I saw this winter either. I spotted one on the Christmas Bird Count and another on a recent walk in the woods.

The only problem with seeing a lot of yellow-bellied sapsuckers is that I have to explain that they are indeed real birds. It’s not just a funny-sounding name that was made up for a scene in The Honeymooners so many years ago. (Check it out on YouTube if you’ve never seen it.)

Birdwatching is full of surprises, whether on a walk in the woods or watching the feeders. The usual suspects are enough to keep me interested, but the surprises add a little oomph to the hobby.

Howling at the moon

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Photo by Chris Bosak- The statue wolves howling at the moon at Huntington State Park, Redding, CT, January, 2026.

The main entrance to Huntington State Park in Redding, Connecticut, features really cool statues of wolves and a bear.

I had only my phone camera with me last evening, but I couldn’t resist taking this photo at dusk of the wolves seemingly howling at the moon.

For the Birds: Great Backyard Bird Count is coming

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Photo by Chris Bosak
A red-shouldered hawk perches on a branch during a snowy day in New England, January 2026.

It should come as no surprise that birdwatching is growing in popularity, according to several studies and other metrics. It had been gaining in popularity for years, but the pandemic greatly accelerated the movement.

As I researched the Great Backyard Bird Count for this column, I was surprised at how much birdwatching had gained in popularity, at least as it is measured by the number of GBBC participants.

In the last 10 years, which is basically a blink of an eye, the number of people participating in the count has exploded. In 2016, roughly 164,000 people did the count. In 2025, last year’s count, roughly 838,000 people participated. That is an amazing increase.

There are several reasons for the increase other than birdwatching simply becoming more popular, although that certainly is a main factor.

The GBBC started as a North American project to have people count birds in the winter as a way to track bird populations over time. It is now a global phenomenon with birdwatchers from nearly every country participating. 

It is also much easier to participate and submit results. Not long ago, results were submitted by hand using a checklist. Then the internet came along and results were submitted through a website. Now, most lists are submitted via eBird or Merlin. In fact, if you have an eBird account, any list submitted during the GBBC timeframe is automatically entered into the GBBC database. 

The organizations behind the GBBC—Cornell Lab of Ornithology, National Audubon Society, Birds Canada and founding sponsor Wild Birds Unlimited—have also done a great job with marketing the event, which also helped to build participation numbers.

As the count’s popularity grows globally, obviously the number of species recorded grows as well. In 2016, just under 5,700 species were counted worldwide. Last year, just over 8,000 species were recorded. 

Any guesses as to which country had the most participants last year? How about which country recorded the most species? 

The answer to the first question is, not surprisingly, the United States, followed by Canada and India. 

The answer to the second question is Colombia, with 1,374 different species recorded, followed by Ecuador, Brazil and India. Many countries in South America and Central America were in the top 10. Again, not surprising considering the climate and time of year. Asia and Africa were well represented in the second 10.

The United States was 12th with 670 species counted last year. Warm states such as Texas, Arizona and Florida accounted for the bulk of the species. New Hampshire birders recorded 111 species last year. Having a coastline provides a boost to that number. For comparison, Vermont had 96 species recorded. 

Why am I going on and on about the Great Backyard Bird Count? Because it’s coming up soon and anyone can participate. And it’s free. Simply count birds and submit the results through eBird, Merlin, or birdcount.org. The results are entered into a massive database of birds that helps to track population trends of bird species.

The 29th annual GBBC will be held February 13-16. You don’t need to be an expert or be out all day. Look for birds, whether in the woods, on a boat or looking at your feeders, for at least 15 minutes and share the results with the world. More information is available at birdcount.org.

While you’re at it, you may as well participate in New Hampshire Audubon’s Backyard Winter Bird Survey, which takes place February 14 and 15. It is a statewide citizen science project similar to the GBBC, whereby birders of all skill levels watch birds at their feeders and submit results. Do an internet search for “NH Audubon Backyard Winter Bird Survey” for further details.

Let me know if you see anything interesting out there.

January 25, 2026, snowstorm bird photos: round 4

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Phto by Chris Bosak – A tufted titmouse during a snowstorm on January 25, 2026, in New England.

Yet a few more bird photos from the snowstorm on January 25, 2026, in New England.

Photo by Chris Bosak
A male cardinal perches on a branch during a snowstorm, January 2026, New England.