It’s quiet. Other than the flapping noise of our flags on the flagpole outside our front door, there are few sounds to disturb the quiet landscape. The thick blanket of snow has muffled most noise. In the stillness, I strain to listen to the nature around me.

As I approach the bird feeders, there are some very distinct voices greeting me. The birds eagerly await my arrival and let me know with their melodic songs. The tiny finches, the gorgeous red cardinals, the cooing doves and the other assorted winged creatures are excited to see me.

They know I am going to ensure their meal for the day. One small bird can’t wait and lands atop the feeder as I attempt to fill it with the rich, dark sunflower seeds it craves. It hops to the nearby garden fence to await its morning feeding.

Soon it and dozens of others will swoop in to share the bounty. There are two seed feeders and several suet holding stations. In this weather, there is a mad dash for all the birds to find their spot on the feeders. The suet is rich and satisfying to keep their energy up as the temperature dips lower.

Even when I am bundled up with gloved hands, this daily filling of the feeders tests my endurance for the cold. But I know they depend on me for their added sustenance this time of the year.

I have taken pity on the large woodpeckers that appear to bully the other birds off the suet feeders. So I wedged a cake of suet in the nearby small tree. It doesn’t take long for the largest of these birds to locate and feast on the suet. The smaller birds now safely grasp onto the suet holders and get their fill.

As I walk toward the house, I spot a rather chubby squirrel posted up along the tree line. I’ve seen him before.

When I go inside, the squirrel will make a mad dash to recover some of the fallen bird seed. T

he birds on the ground don’t seem to mind sharing with him.

Come late spring, the seed feeders will be weaned away. In their place will be the colorful hummingbird feeders as the tiny birds make their way north. Somehow they remember where we live and where they can be assured a summer of sweet nectar.

They bring such enjoyment when watching them perform their acrobatic moves in and out of the garden.

The quiet is gone now. I can hear trucks lumbering across North Fork Road, perhaps plowing the road of the snow. If that’s the case, it’s a welcome noise. Stay safe out there, everybody.

Heather Ziegler can be reached via email at hziegler@theintelligencer.net.