The smell of woodsmoke had mingled with fresh, wet earth by the time I reached the top of the hill. A raven croaked overhead—one of the wildest sounds you can hear in Pennsylvania, in my opinion. It fills your soul with a sense of wilderness, even here, in a stretch of woods that really isn’t all that large.
I was hoping to add Yellow-bellied Sapsucker to my bird list and quietly held out hope that I might again encounter one of the resident Fox Squirrels I’d crossed paths with before on this ridge. Though I love all squirrels, the Fox Squirrel is my favorite. The individual I found was taking full advantage of the break in the weather, feasting on black walnuts. At first, it seemed unsettled by my presence at the ridge top, but when I looped down toward the bottom, it was as if the squirrel realized I posed no threat. I watched as it continued caching nuts—spiraling up the trunk and tucking them away in unseen crevices with practiced efficiency.
Bird-wise, I didn’t quite expect some of the species I encountered—but I’ll take it. Most notable were Pine Siskins. I first heard a single bird, but as I scanned the treetops, two dogs burst out of a nearby house and shattered the quiet. It was a full-on assault on the senses. In an instant, a flurry of birds poured from shrubs and trees in every direction, taking any hope of photos with them.
Another pleasant surprise was a Turkey Vulture, a species I know uses this ridge as a roost. Less common in winter but still present, this marked my first sighting of 2026—and a welcome addition to my eBird list. I watched it drift off with wings held in the telltale shallow “V,” a field mark any bird guide worth its salt will mention.
Also notable was a lone Common Grackle. Somehow left behind by the larger flocks that headed south, it’s always worth scanning winter blackbird groups “just in case” they hold a rogue grackle. I do the same in hopes of finding Brown-headed Cowbirds, Red-winged Blackbirds, or—more rarely and concerningly—the rapidly declining Rusty Blackbird.
Not surprising, but still worth noting, was a Hermit Thrush in a stand of invasive Chinese privet. While invasive, privet berries are favored by many birds—which, in this case, isn’t a good thing. The berries are eaten, the seeds pass through undigested, and are deposited elsewhere with a tidy casing of fertilizer. Not that the plant needs the help. Still, I could hear the thrush’s soft purt purt calls as it foraged. The privet had also attracted an American Robin—another thrush species—and one that, contrary to popular belief, we have year-round here.
You can review the full bird list below:
- Turkey Vulture – 1
- Red-bellied Woodpecker – 2
- Downy Woodpecker – 3
- Hairy Woodpecker – 2
- Pileated Woodpecker – 1
- Blue Jay – 5
- American Crow – 2
- Common Raven – 2
- Black-capped Chickadee – 6
- Tufted Titmouse – 9
- White-breasted Nuthatch – 7
- Carolina Wren – 2
- European Starling – 5
- Hermit Thrush – 1
- American Robin – 1
- House Sparrow – 4
- House Finch – 3
- Pine Siskin – 1
- American Goldfinch – 2
- Dark-eyed Junco – 11
- White-throated Sparrow – 3
- Song Sparrow – 1
- Common Grackle – 1
- Northern Cardinal – 5
Birds aside, I counted far more deer than I expected in such a small span of forest. Not the best news when you consider the pressure deer browsing puts on the understory. Still, I love deer, and I was genuinely pleased to watch a young “spike” buck make his way up the ridge ahead of me. I can’t give an exact count—given the confined nature of this quarter-mile stretch, I likely crossed paths with the same individuals more than once.
No sapsucker this time, but plenty of good birds. I was also a bit disappointed not to see my fall-season Winter Wren friend, which had been taking full advantage of man-made treefalls from recent logging along the property’s edge. Winter Wrens love upturned roots, brush piles, and dense thickets—especially near streams. This location sits near two.
All in all, it felt good to stretch my legs and shake off some winter blahs that had been trying to settle in. Life’s too short for that. Grab your boots, grab a camera—or binoculars—and get out there. The appreciation of life is all around us.