Whether I’m writing in my columns or in my different journals, I often refer to a particular group of birds as “the regulars.” These are the species that are dependable visitors to my feeders on pretty much any day of a given season. These are the birds that show up so dependably that I have spent years recording their morning arrival times on the off chance that there is some sort of hidden pattern to their movements. But more than anything, these are the birds that give a particular character to my particular yard.
Among the regulars are species like black-capped chickadees, blue jays, downy woodpeckers and Northern cardinals — birds that are widespread and well known by many people. If you live in an area with trees you might be able to add the downy woodpecker and the white-breasted nuthatch to that list. Certainly the mourning dove would have to be put down as a regular visitor to almost any suburban yard, but there are other species that are present while also being unobtrusive; birds that are common, yet easily overlooked.
One of these species is the dark-eyed junco (Junco hyemalis). Like other sparrows, this is a small bird that prefers to forage for food on the ground. As a result, it may not be a dominant presence at any of your feeders. Unlike other sparrows, however, the dark-eyed junco is not brown. Instead, it shows a plumage pattern that is easy to learn, making it a species that is potentially very recognizable once you’ve learned what to look for.
Adult males are a dark, graphite gray that can almost pass for black. These dark feathers cover the head, back, wings, throat and breast of the bird, with only the belly feathers being a pure snow white. I’ve always thought of their bodies as being generally egg-shaped, and their white bellies make them look like little Easter eggs that have been dipped in white paint. There is also a history of them being seen as having their bellies “stained” with snow. The transition line between the dark feathers of the body and the white feathers of the belly can be a little ragged and irregular, which can allow one to think that individual snowflakes have adhered to the bird’s belly.
Adult females are actually a bit more colorful than the males. They still have gray feathers covering most of their bodies, but the gray is a little lighter in color. They still have that very distinct patch of white feathers on their bellies, but with the females there is the addition of hints of coffee-brown on their flanks and on their backs. In some ways, the females are more attractive than the males, which is slightly unusual in birds. Both sexes have pink beaks.
An old name for the dark-eyed junco is “snowbird.” This is probably the result of these birds arriving most prominently in the winter and then disappearing again in the spring. As I sit at my desk I am looking at a small sheet of lined paper upon which I have typed the dates of the “first sightings” of juncos for the past 17 years. In 2009, the juncos showed up on Nov. 11. In 2010, they showed up on Sept. 26. In every other year they have arrived sometime in the month of October and the pages of my red journals mark this occasion with the declaration, “There’s JUNC on the deck!”
All birds have a special four-letter code (called an “Alpha Code”) that bird researchers use to record their sightings. Technically speaking, the alpha code for the dark-eyed junco should be DEJU, the first letter of “dark,” the first letter of “eyed,” and the first two letters of “junco.” My problem with this code is the fact that the common name of this species has changed over the years. The dark-eyed junco was split into different species; all of which received their own species names. Then in the 1970s, the name change was reversed and all of the different species were clumped back together under the name dark-eyed junco. I happen to like the idea that JUNC and junk are pronounced the same, so I use JUNC in my notes, thus allowing the pun.
The dark-eyed junco generally arrives in our area in October and then seems to disappear sometime in April. This is because this species prefers to nest in coniferous forests (pine and spruce trees) that are not always common at our latitude. However, there are some such forests to be found at higher altitudes, and the species’ range during the breeding season does follow a very thin line of the Appalachian Mountain chain as far south as North Carolina. In the west, the species is a year-round resident of the largest mountain ranges.
Here in Massachusetts the junco is listed as a year-round resident, but they do tend to fade away during the breeding season. Most of the breeding range shifts northward to cover most of Canada, but there is still a chance that you might have breeding juncos in your yard if the forest type is heavy with conifers. The song of a male dark-eyed junco is a high, thin trill that can be easily confused for the song of a chipping sparrow, which makes detecting the species a bit of a challenge. Even in the wintertime, when birds are hungry, you might not see too many juncos if the ground has no snow on it. Their preference for wild food might keep them on the edges, out of view despite the fact that they are definitely present.
The January thaw has resulted in a drop in the numbers of juncos at my feeders, but the birds are still hanging around. I have found that they appear in their largest numbers at dawn, well before sunrise. There may be as many as a dozen juncos feeding when the light levels only make them appear as silhouettes, but as the light increases their numbers seem to drop. So, if you are an early riser, then you might consider watching the ground under your feeders in the early morning light. You might be surprised how many little snowbirds are actually in your yard.
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 28 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the US Forest Service, the Nature Conservancy and the Massachusetts State Parks and he currently teaches high school biology and physics. For more information visit www.speakingofnature.com, Speaking of Nature on Facebook, or search for the Speaking of Nature Podcast.