Now is the time to start looking for yellow-bellied sapsuckers here in the Smokies region. Of the various woodpecker species that occur here, the sapsucker is by far the most migratory. Some can be located in the higher elevations of our mountains from spring into late summer, but sapsuckers appear in this area primarily as fall and winter residents.

While observing your backyard bird feeder this winter, you may be startled by a blue flash that suddenly rockets into the scene and snatches one of your resident cardinals, nuthatches, chickadees, or titmice. The “blue flash” will have been either a sharp-shinned or a Cooper’s hawk, the infamous “chicken hawks” of rural lore that primarily feed on other birds. Because of their slate-blue backs and lightning-quick movements when swooping or tracking prey through brush, they are also widely known in the South as “blue darters.”

Some winters there will be an influx of northern bird species into the southeastern United States. Here in the Smokies region of Western North Carolina, it’s been a few years since this has happened. Early reports indicate that this winter could be an “irruptive” year for various hawks and owls as well as evening grosbeaks, purple finches, red and white-winged crossbills, and pine siskins.

Names of places throughout the Blue Ridge country pay tribute to the familiar wildlife of the region: Bear Wallow Stand Ridge, Beaverdam Creek, Buck Knob, Fox Gap, Wild Boar Creek, Coon Branch, Wildcat Cliffs, Possum Hollow, Polecat Ridge, Raven Rocks, Buzzard Roost, Eagle Heights, Rattlesnake Mountain, and so on.

This past weekend’s sudden drop in overnight temperatures into the high 20s (26 degrees and 28 degrees Fahrenheit, respectively, at our place near Bryson City) was unprecedented in our experience. That is, during the 33 years my wife, Elizabeth, and I have resided in Western North Carolina, we have never known temperatures to drop from the low 40s into the high 20s without at least a few nights in the 30s in between.

“... the mellowing year marks its periods of decline with a pageantry

“On a morning in October, when a light mist hung over the pond, a mink appeared following this path beside the water’s edge. It ran in little spurts this way and that, alert, intense, tracing a weaving trail, turning aside, disappearing, reappearing, plunging into the water, swimming swiftly ...”

— Edwin Way Teale, A Naturalist Buys an Old Farm (1974)

An ancient Chinese philosopher once admonished his listeners to “Study the familiar!” Ancient Chinese philosophers were always admonishing people to do one thing or another. That was their job. Sometimes they even knew what they were talking about.

Usually I sit on the front deck of our house for a while after getting home from work. Then, before dusk, I normally retire to the kitchen area to listen to the radio while eating supper. One evening last week, however, I remained on the deck watching the evening shadows seep down into the valley. Just before dark, I spotted what at first appeared to be a flock of birds circling over the creek and pasture.

When writing about the natural world, I prefer to write about specific natural areas, plants, and animals here in the southern highlands. But from time to time I do like to pause and consider the philosophical aspects of comprehending the natural world. That’s when I invariably drag out my pet maxims: “Study the familiar,” “Go light,” “Don’t walk fast,” “Winter simplifies,” “Each trail has a life of its own,” and so on. A little bit of that sort of thing goes a long ways, so I air them out in public only when I can’t otherwise help myself.