This is the King of the Snowbirds, and this is his throne. He is also known as the Junco King. Dark-eyed juncos are called “snowbirds” regionally in the wintertime. Flocks of them appear at our feeders when the weather turns cold and they descend from more northern climes. This is the perch that the King of the Snowbirds occupies in our yard each year.
[You folks who are temporarily in California, Arizona or Florida for the winter, these tiny fluffs of feather are the model for your metaphor—"snowbird.”]
Though royalty, he arrives without ceremony, no trumpet blast, no royal decree—just a soft rustle and suddenly there he is, chest puffed, eyes alert, surveying his kingdom of seed trays and scattered hulls. Around him bustle the lesser nobles: mostly finches and sparrows, but also cardinals, downy woodpeckers, the occasional chickadee with important business to attend to … and others. But the junco king rules over it all by calm presence, not bluster … at least when he’s on his throne.
Juncos always seem dressed for the season—sleek gray above, crisp white below, like they planned for winter long before we did. Their garb is often described as “leaden skies above, snow below.” While the rest of us complain about the cold, they treat frigid blasts of icy wind like a refreshing breeze, and actual snow like a red carpet. Though they leave the most frigid areas, they will stick around here and stay in character, actively feeding even when the ground is white.
They are ground feeders by preference, usually seen skittering around at breakneck speed. And the king is no exception. He moves fast when on the ground, but this king also enjoys a regal sunbath on his elevated throne. It reminds me that winter has its own quiet beauty. His reign lasts only as long as the cold does. One warm spring day, without announcement, the throne will be empty. The king will have returned north, and the yard will feel strangely quiet.
Until then, long live the King of the Snowbirds—ruler of winter mornings, scattered seeds, and a gentle reminder that even the coldest seasons bring their own small joys—one tiny, beautiful part of God’s creation.
