Wind danced madly with Spruce, her skirts roaring in my ears as they sent Spruce's branches bouncing. Thane's down jacket and my Bogs boots, pulled on over my pajamas, protected me from her worst as I stepped out on the deck this morning. Dawn was breaking and my feathered friends were out of food.
Scooping black seeds into the yellowed plastic feeder cylinders, my fingers began to numb. With a wind chill of about-10, it didn't take long for my exposed skin to start muttering in protest. The discomfort was worth it though. As soon as they were filled, black capped chickadees, nuthatches, pine grosbeaks and hairy woodpeckers came to visit. They're counting on me to help them through the winter, and I wouldn't want to disappoint.
