They called it “Snowmageddon” on TV. The first big storm of the winter of 2025-2026 and, from a certain point of view, it was a big one. Western Massachusetts received a deep coat of fresh snow and it certainly got our attention, but a foot of the white stuff isn’t exactly all that unusual in the wintertime. The fact that it snowed from Austin to Augusta made it an impressive nationwide event, but up here in New England we’ve seen worse.
That being said, a major blizzard can create conditions that are brutally challenging for the wildlife that lives just outside. The lucky ones among us can revel in the warmth of homes full of hot coffee and pancakes. We can bundle up, go outside to move the snow out of the way, and then retreat back into the warmth where something delicious is cooking on the stove for dinner. It is a normal part of winter for most of us, but I think that we sometimes forget just how lucky we really are.
Take a look at today’s photo of the forest in back of my house. I strapped on a pair of snowshoes and headed down the hill to take some photos before the sun got too low in the west. I stopped and snapped this photo of the shadows of the trees stretching across the clear surface of the snow on the forest floor, took a deep breath, let out a satisfied “ahhhhh,” and then turned around and went back to my house. But what if that hadn’t been an option? What would I have had to do then?
Well, if I had been a Black-capped Chickadee I would have had to seek shelter very quickly. The sun was setting and I couldn’t afford to be caught out in the cold in the dark where I would probably freeze to death. So, having spent my entire life combing through the forest for resources — examining every nook and cranny for any opportunities that I might find — I would have come across a wide variety of tree cavities that might offer shelter. Old woodpecker holes would probably be the best, but one with an entrance facing away from any prevailing wind is best. Sometimes, to survive cold nights, chickadees will huddle up in a group to stay warm.
If I had been a blue jay, then things are a little more of a challenge. A chickadee in a woodpecker hole is out of the wind, but a blue jay has fewer options for tree cavities. Based on some of the birds that visited my feeders on the morning after the big storm, it was clear that the jays had spent the night getting snowed on because their backs were covered with snow that had frozen to their feathers. These birds probably sought out the densest conifer stand that they could find and use the thick vegetation as shelter from the storm. They were alive and kicking, but I can only imagine that it was a rough night.
A particularly interesting strategy for staying warm on a winter night is known as “snow roosting.” This is a strategy employed by Ruffed Grouse and it really seems to rely on deep, powdery snow for it to work. Basically, a grouse goes bombing through the woods and takes a nosedive into the snow at an angle. Plunging into the snow like a meteorite, the bird buries itself and then goes about the process of creating a little cavity under the surface. Here, the wind is not an issue and the snow can act like an insulating blanket.
The birds have special feathers around their nostrils that serve as a buffer to the cold and I am sure that they help to keep the snow out of their noses. Under the snow the temperature can stay above 20 degrees Fahrenheit — which sounds awful — but can be much warmer than the wind, below-zero temperatures above the snow. The only hazard is the fact that diving into deep snow can be dangerous. What if there is a rock, or a dead tree down there?
Then, once you have survived the winter’s night and emerged from your hiding place the next morning, where do you find something to eat? Take another look at today’s photo. Where would you look for food? This is the question that I find utterly boggling. How on Earth do some of these animals stay alive night after night, week after week, month after month. Where is the food?
Well, if the birds are lucky, then there is a friendly human who puts out food for them. I am looking at my data for the morning after the storm and a quick count reveals that I had a minimum of 172 individual birds in a two-hour period on a Monday morning. Before you inquire about my sanity, just remember that I am a bird nerd. The Cornell Lab of Ornithology really wants to know how many birds there are out there, so I count them. Each species gets a maximum observed number, which means I can only count the largest group of them that I see all at once. Each species arrives in different numbers at different times, and I keep updating the maximum number seen for each.
This is one of those topics that deserves an entire book and as luck would have it there have been several authors over the years who have taken up the challenge to describe all of the wintertime survival strategies for different species of birds and mammals. I certainly can’t go into that sort of depth here, but what’s most important is that you’re thinking about it now. Where does a red-tailed hawk spend the night? How about a great horned owl? Scientists have answered some of these questions and the answers are out there. So, turn off the news and go look for something that stimulates your imagination. I’ll dig up some of the information for my next podcast.
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 and the Massachusetts State Parks and he has taught Biology and Physics at Pittsfield High School for 22 years. For more information visit www.speakingofnature.com, Speaking of Nature on Facebook, or the Speaking of Nature Podcast.