Just as leaves began falling in our back yards, northern cardinals were showing off their new plumage for the coming year.
In late August, the brilliant red males and warm brown females started to replace their feathers in a shedding and replacement process called molting.
The birds do this gradually, ensuring that feather loss never impairs their ability to fly or keep out the cold. (Young birds complete their molt into adult plumage sometime during the winter.)
The new plumage may lack that brilliant cardinal red because the new feathers have gray tips. These wear away in the months ahead, as birds brush into branches or huddle in shrubbery, and male cardinals gradually become redder and redder. By springtime's breeding season, the red bird is truly the vibrant color that endears them to so many.
Not early adopters
I tend to think of cardinals as conservative birds, slow to make changes and try new things. They're not early adopters, the way chickadees are, but are more deliberative and careful in all their actions. So the two times I observed a cardinal doing something out of the ordinary were surprising, even shocking:
Last fall a male cardinal in my back yard fluttered, a bit like a hummingbird, in front of a hosta plant, just 18 inches off the ground. He carefully plucked the large, black seeds out of each of the plant's pods and dropped to the ground to eat them.
In another unexpected incident, a cardinal flashed out of a dogwood shrub to snatch up a butterfly, and then perched to strip off its wings before swallowing the insect.
Usually, though, cardinals show up at my feeders just before sunup and a bit after sunset, almost like clockwork. They sit at the platform feeder and slowly roll safflower seeds around in their mouths, using their tongues to set each seed into the sweet spot in their grooved lower beak. When a cardinal closes that big bill the intense pressure breaks open the seed, exposing the nutmeat inside.