The Toughest Bird to Winter's Wrath?

Mallards scrambling for scattered seeds on running path at Reservoir.

Grabbing what they can, when they can on icy Reservoir.

Hardy little sparrow taking advantage of easy opportunity.

The cold too much for their feet, most of the geese and ducks squatted down.

The little, female wood duck sitting on ice to conserve body heat.

It was 9 degrees when heading to Central Park this morning, with wind chills below zero.

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I didn't think it was too bad until hitting the Reservoir path. With no buildings or trees to blunt the fierce force of the winds, it was like stepping on to the Arctic -- complete with rock-hard ice below one's feet and 35 mph wind gusts.

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But, who am I to whine about the cold or the wind when I am only out for an hour?  

The park wildlife has to endure it 24/7.

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The remaining geese (32) and ducks (about 50) were all swimming vigorously in the still open water at the otherwise iced over Reservoir.

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Though at least a quarter of a mile away, the geese recognized me immediately arriving to the path. They came scurrying out of the water, the mallards following closely behind. (It's intriguing how mallards seem to take so many of their cues from geese, regarding predator dangers or in this case, a benefactor. Though the two species don't always "like" each other, they nevertheless rely in many ways on one another through the bad times.)

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So frigid was the ice below their feet, neither the geese nor ducks could stand more than a minute or so before having to squat down to warm their legs and contain body heat. Although pangs of hunger were obvious, most chose to stretch their necks out to grab treats falling on the ice, rather than stand and scramble for them which actually appeared painful.

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Unrelenting winds blew much of the bird seed I was tossing, back on the running path, where clever and opportunistic sparrows were quick to swoop down and grab them. It's interesting to note of the wildlife having to deal with this bitter and unusual cold, sparrows appear to be the most resilient and less bothered by it. The sparrows cheerfully hopped around as if it were a perfectly, ordinary day. The ice did not appear to chill their feet or bodies in the least as it obviously was, the geese and ducks.

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Back on the Reservoir, the geese and ducks were still struggling. The geese have longer necks to reach the food, but the mallards were quicker and extremely deft -- sometimes boldly stealing a piece of bread right from a goose's mouth. This prompted an annoyed reaction from a couple of the geese, even pecking the little female wood duck who has been hanging with them over the past couple of weeks.

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It was about that time, that despite the warm gloves on my hands, my fingers became numb and tingly, prompting an awareness of frostbite. Though I had only been standing about ten minutes, it was apparent I needed to pack up the feeding action and stuff hands back in pockets.

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All the food on the ice gone, some of the mallards took to the air, flying over the fence to grab any remaining sunflower or bird seeds on the running path. From their bold and risky (or maybe, just desperate) moves, I gratefully surmised that the two red-tailed hawks observed yesterday morning weren't around today. If true, at least the water birds got a bit of a break.

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Finally exiting what had seemed a visit to the North Pole, I passed a small tree with many branches. There, skipping and singing among the twigs, were the merry little sparrows.

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Who would ever think that it is the diminutive sparrow who (most times, we don't even notice) would ultimately be the toughest bird to winter's wrath?  -- PCA

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