This is Bird Note.

I'm Jay Drew Lanham, an ornithologist, naturalist, and writer, and this is a note I've written to a bird I love.

Dear Snowbird, Junko, yes, you with a dark eyes, dark-eyed junco.

Yes, you are a junko to most, but persistently in my memory, you're a snowbird.

My grandmother, Mamatha, would agree, then toss you and all the other sparrows a handful of grits.

She'd shower the frosty ground with that crushed to almost dust corn right from the bag.

There'd be no butter or melty cheese on top of the heaping hot plate of cooked grits she didn't give you.

That steamy meal she'd tossed to me. I know it would have been a bit much for you anyway. You're more of an alfresco

bird. I still see you scratching for seeds in my South Carolina home now, like you did back then.

I know that the warming world makes it harder than ever to claim snow in your name,

but you'll always be the sparrow and a tuxedo, little junko.

I'll expect you again when the leaves are past falling and the limbs almost bare.

How about we just keep the chilly nickname between us, okay?

You melt me, Drew.