Many of us celebrate the seasonal rhythms of nature. My friend Eleanor delights in the first
Ruby-throated Hummingbird of spring, Lou awaits pollinators for his wildflower meadow, and Danielle looks forward to planting her vegetables. For me, one of nature’s most anticipated changes is the October arrival of dark-eyed Juncos — the unmistakable harbingers of winter.

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Often called “snowbirds,” these small, round sparrows with a pink bill, distinct gray plumage,
white bellies, and flashing white tail feathers. Their Latin name, Junco hyemalis, fittingly means “of the winter.” Each year, a faithful group of juncos, with their distinct gray plumage and white bellies, returns to the cypress trees adjacent to my home to roost — resting together at dusk for warmth and protection.

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Dark-eyed juncos are among North America’s most common birds, found from Alaska to
Mexico. The slate-colored form dominates the East while the Oregon type of the West shows a dark hood and brown back. Despite these variations, all share the same lively habits — hopping along the ground in search of seeds or scratching through snow beneath feeders.

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In summer, juncos retreat north to breed in the spruce and fir forests of Canada and New
England. There, insects like grasshoppers, caterpillars, beetles, and spiders provide vital protein for their young. Their diets shift with the seasons: seeds in winter, insects in summer — a remarkable annual adaptation that we cant help but admire.

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The nest site is almost always on ground, well hidden under overhanging grass, under
log, rock, or exposed roots, or in a shallow hole in a dirt bank. Sometimes up in shrub,
tree, or ledge of building, rarely more than 10' above ground. A nest (built mostly by
female) is an open cup of grass, weeds, leaves, lined with fine grass and sometimes
with hair or feathers.

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Females lay 3-5 whitish to bluish or pale gray eggs, with markings of brown and gray.
Incubation is by female, about 11-13 days. Both parents feed the nestlings. Young leave
the nest 9-13 days after hatching and females produce two broods per year, sometimes
3. Males migrate shorter distances than females, so they can return early to claim breeding
territories. By spring, as other birds arrive, we hardly notice the juncos slipping quietly away to their northern homes. This migration pattern, with males returning early to establish territories, is a fascinating aspect of their behavior.
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Observing these delightful creatures as they “moonwalk” across the snow to uncover seeds is a source of pure joy. Their simple presence not only signals winter’s return but also serves as a comforting reminder that nature’s cycles continue, steady and sure, year after year.
I often see them along the hiking trails in Huntington Park. When they are alarmed, they will fly to the nearest cover (usually a bush or low tree), flashing bright white stripes on either side of their tails as they flutter away. 

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In mid Spring I hardly notice that the juncos have left, because so many other birds such as
robins, warblers, bluebirds, the song and white-throated sparrows and other songbirds are
arriving as Bethel turns from a wintering ground into breeding ground.

Right now, though many birds have migrated south, I am sitting down with my Blue Jay
Orchards cider and donuts, enjoying my harbingers of winter. Pumpkin or apple pie for dinner?

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