Essay and photos by Joe Mish

Dark eyed junco, aka, ‘snowbird’, embodies the Chinese symbol for harmony and balance of opposing forces, and the moment when the darkness surrenders to the light during the winter solstice. This year the solstice occurs December 21, at 4:20 am.

The arrival of December is ushered in on the wings of a junco, as a pair landed in the among the protection of a stand of red cedar and darkness deepened at day’s end. Dark eyed junco migrate south in winter to escape the extreme cold of far northern climates and have earned the alias of ‘snowbird’.  Though junco may be found year round in the northeast, the local population expands with migrants as winter takes hold.

The junco is a diminutive bird, easily recognized by dark slate gray upper body and pure white lower body. It appears as if the dark bird was lowered into white paint. The colors stand in stark contrast to each other with no transition from dark to light. 

The sight of the two snowbirds perched among the dark green foliage of the cedars on this December evening, prompted a sudden realization that these winged messengers, perfectly symbolized the arrival of winter and the coming solstice.

December holds the claim to the darkest day of the year, by the measure of time from sunrise to sunset. Then, without transition, at the exact instant of celestial alignment, day light begins to depose the darkness. In that one day, December 21, 4:20 am, light overcomes darkness to retain the dynamic balancing act upon which all life on earth depends.

The Chinese, ‘yin yang symbol’, for harmony and balance of opposing forces, appropriately compliments the winter solstice. The opposing forces join in an infinite embrace to create a single entity. The image of a junco becomes an artistic interpretation of that ancient symbol and the winter solstice.

As flocks of junco move southward to precede the coming snowflakes, they are joined by black cap chickadees dressed for the cold weather with black caps, charcoal gray capes, and scarves covering their throat. Their black and white plumage pays respect to the winter solstice and the dance of day and night coexisting in dynamic balance. Chickadees thrive in the northeast states’ winter weather, tiny wisps of feathered energy traveling in small flocks, bold and cheerful. Known for their ‘chick a dee dee dee’ refrain, they give the impression that even the most frigid weather and deep snow cannot suppress their enthusiasm and cheer. In that way, chickadees have become a role model for people living in harsh climates. Encountering a flock of chickadees, cheerfully singing, deep in the snowy woods, lightens the step and brightens the mood or any winter traveler. Chickadees represent the birth of light and the flow of life-giving energy surging in the retreat of darkness.

Autumn is at risk of losing its reputation as a season of fall color and mild weather as it owns most of December, generally considered to be the heart of winter. The darkest days of the year occur during autumn and not winter. The instant winter arrives, it marks the rebirth of light, the precursor of life. December then nurtures the expanding light for only ten days before handing it off to January, where daylength outpaces the darkness and thrives on the energy of the freezing windblown snow.

Winter’s embrace preceding its scheduled arrival, is indistinguishable from its full midwinter delivery of snow and ice; winter is its own opening act. When the first snowflake lands after the first day of December, winter is declared to be in residence.

Looking toward the earth, rather than the stars, for winter’s arrival, the signs are many and varied and subjectively applied. My preference is to view natural wonders through primitive eyes. Winter arrived for me one cold morning in autumn where the first light lit the sky and everything the light touched reflected a blood red glow that was soon extinguished by darkness. The sun had only a brief window to prove its promise of another day before it was blotted out by a solid gray blanket laid across the sky. The cold sunless conditions suggested the possibility of snow and triggered a feeding frenzy. A doe and her spring fawn dressed in winter’s coat of gray and brown searched through the fallen leaves for acorns. A brown creeper, downy woodpecker and a pair of nuthatches searched crevices in the bark of leafless black walnut trees for insects.

Geese constantly talked among themselves to provide background sound to the occasion. The wind began to pick up and commit to a constant direction, and with it, delivered a brief, but heavy snow shower. One flake settled on a single stand of my wool mitten; its intricate structure easily seen. Entranced by the beauty of the snowflake I was startled by the nearby blood curdling howl of a coyote on the move. All the cackling geese went silent as the coyote demanded everyone’s attention, even the wind deferred, as if it was winter who spoke through the coyote announcing its arrival.

Author Joe Mish has been running wild in New Jersey since childhood when he found ways to escape his mother’s watchful eyes. He continues to trek the swamps, rivers and thickets seeking to share, with the residents and visitors, all of the state’s natural beauty hidden within full view. To read more of his writing and view more of his gorgeous photographs visit Winter Bear Rising, his wordpress blog. Joe’s series “Nature on the Raritan, Hidden in Plain View” runs monthly as part of the LRWP “Voices of the Watershed” series. Writing and photos used with permission from the author.