THERE IS AN oak snag outside my office window. Actually it almost doesn’t qualify as a snag. It’s really quite slender and maybe 12 feet tall, just a young tree that snapped in two during a bad snowstorm and couldn’t recover. It’s been standing there for four or five years now, testament more to our inertia than part of an active plan for habitat development. It seemed a little scrawny to be much use to wildlife, and certainly it was too small for birds to nest in. But we let it stand there in the midst of other, healthier trees because we never got around to doing anything else about it.
As a result of our casual gardening, this winter I have learned a valuable lesson about the efficiency of nature. I have spent a lot of time in my office recently, and between visits by the muses, I have been staring out the window. What I have discovered is that my whippet of a snag is a big hit with my wild neighbors.
The birds are very happy with it, and find it unceasingly useful. The Red-breasted Nuthatch that has been hanging around here this winter wanders down the trunk daily, checking for larvae or insect eggs where the bark is loose. The Red-bellied Woodpecker frequently flies to it and seems to use it as a way station before making the last little flight to the suet feeder that hangs on a tree trunk 15 feet away. Although the Brown Creepers seem to prefer the bigger trees, I have seen them stop on the thin trunk more than once. And for some reason I don’t really understand, the Tufted Titmice seem to like to land on a couple of tiny twig stubs that are sticking out from the trunk. There are many more substantial branches on surrounding trees, but they often choose the snag.
Last week during a storm that was predominately the dreaded “wintery mix,” I watched in amazement as a Downy Woodpecker worked out a feeding problem with the help of the snag. We had put out a new suet cake, and it had somehow broken into long, thin sheets. To the Downy this was a bonanza, coming as it did on a cold, wet day. Instead of getting little bits of suet, she could pick up strips two or three inches long, but she couldn’t get the whole thing in her beak. Instead, she flew to the snag, to a spot where the surface was very rough, and used the tree to “hang” strips of suet while she pounded them into manageable bites.
It’s not just been good for the birds, though. The squirrels have happily incorporated it into their pathway from the taller trees to the feeders. Although it has no real branches left, they frequently jump to the trunk from a neighboring pine. Yesterday I looked out to see a squirrel hanging upside down on the side of the snag. Apparently he had just stopped to enjoy the sun for a minute or two before continuing on his way. There’s also a two foot long strip, maybe 4 inches wide and about 5 feet off the ground, where the bark is missing. I haven’t seen them, but I’m guessing that our local deer stopped by one night and pulled off some hanging pieces of bark.
Nothing in nature is wasted. Sometimes I forget that, and even more often I move too quickly through life to see what’s happening outside my window. But I’ll try to remember to look at my yard through wild eyes. They see things differently than I do.
Barbara R. Jones
Tabernacle, NJ
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