Years go by, and you get used to certain things. You stop looking closely, and so probably miss interesting little details.

So it was that I came to see something completely new earlier this week. Something that took me by surprise, even though in retrospect it shouldn’t have.

Pigpolls at the feeder

Redpolls come to the feeder in astonishing numbers in February and March. They suck down the feed at such a rate that we fondly call them pigpolls. We ration them, so we don’t go broke on shelled sunflower seeds; it is amazing how much they put away.

Any time you have large numbers of animals eating just as fast as they can, you’re going to have some serious pooping, too. And that product litters the deck and the snow beneath the nearby tree where they hang out between bouts at the feeder. It’s always nice when we get some new snow to clean things up.

It was -20 F one morning, and I was staring vaguely out the window with my coffee when I noticed an odd, quick movement. The sun was shining brightly in the window, and the pigpolls were fluttering about doing their thing—and boom: another of these quick movements. Then I focused. They were going off all around among the birds perched in the tree—pew, pew, pew. I am not sure how to describe them, except perhaps -20 shit contrails, or special meteors: a rapidly freezing vapor stream rocketing out from the birds’ cloaca into the cold air, with sunlight from behind highlighting the vapor streaks, which disappear in an instant. Cool. An auspicious way to begin the day (at least for an ornithologist).

Working up a special meteor…