|Common goldeneyes never whine about the cold...unlike me|
Today's discontent is freezing rain. I've spent the day reading on the couch, occasionally glancing out the window, where I can see cars splashing grayish slush along the curb as they pass. I pay attention to the windshield wipers, to see if it's still raining. And it is. Even my humble plans for birding today--walking around town a bit in the hopes that a Cooper's hawk or Eurasian collared dove flies past--will not work out.
This winter sucks. To start with, it's the coldest winter in the past couple of decades, at least here in Illinois. Single digits, sub-zero real temperatures, and wind chill factors that make me an instant human popsicle. I've been out to Clinton Lake a couple of times, watching hardy goldeneyes bobbing on the icy waves as I struggled to keep my spotting scope steady in the gale. The goldeneyes take this sort of thing in better spirits than I can muster.
To add slippery white stuff to my list of woes, it also keeps on snowing, not in a glorious, winter-wonderland way, but just enough to make the roads a death trap, with an inch or two of snow hiding random patches of black ice. I haven't gone off the road yet, but I've slithered around enough to give myself a temporary, but debilitating, phobia about it. For about a week, my commute to work involved a death-grip on the steering wheel and a struggle to maintain the speed limit, even when the roads were clear. This is how it starts, I thought. I'm well on the way to becoming an agoraphobic old lady with an animal hoarding problem. Luckily this phobia disappeared as quickly as it appeared, and I am not back to zipping down the highway like I'm practicing for the Indy 500.
I have had a few good birding moments here and there, such as finding three trumpeter swans hanging out in the stubble of a cornfield by Dewitt last Sunday, along with some of my other favorite winter species--a brown creeper in the woods, a small flock of hooded mergansers along the IL 48 bridge. And it is nice to have plenty of time to curl up and read, with dogs snoozing on my lap. Even so, winter is not my friend, and I am fighting off more cabin fevered crabbiness each day. (Next week's forecast includes snow and cold!)
Some people, when they are feeling sorry for themselves, find it helpful to think of those even less fortunate as an antidote to self-pity, and now I shall do the same. At least I am not living in Michigan's Upper Peninsula with my parents. Talk about a dreadful winter! My mom's lucky to get a dozen birds on an outing right now. Although if she can find a patch of open water, there will probably be goldeneyes, a bird apparently completely impervious to the cold. How do they do it?