It was so cold at the end of December that Auduboners conducting the Christmas bird count in St. Paul looked like Michelin Men, wrapped in many layers of clothing.
My team walked gingerly over the icy trails at Crosby Farm Regional Park along the Mississippi River, hoping to spot a few robins and other songbirds around the seeps and springs. What we got, instead, was a major outbreak of robins, flying in by the dozens to gather on the park's sun-splashed hillside, the one snow-free spot in the landscape. These cold-weather robins hopped on the ground and feverishly tossed leaves aside in their search for small insects, seeds and fallen fruit.
It was amazing to see wave after wave of the big birds flying in. By the end of the morning we'd tallied up 800 robins, a surprising number for a bird that many of us still think of as a harbinger of spring.
Several days later, Minneapolis birder Bruce Fall reported a huge flock of robins at the University of St. Thomas in St. Paul. In just over 35 minutes, he counted something like 2,500 birds flooding in to evergreens to spend the night. And Tom Bell, a birder on Grey Cloud Island in Washington County, counted at least 2,300 robins roosting in a pine plantation not far from his home in 2010.
What's going on, you might ask. What are robins doing here, long after fall migration? And how can they possibly survive our winters?
Part of the story lies in the fact that a few robins have always spent the winter in Minnesota, primarily in the southern part of the state (but also along the North Shore). They've been counted on Christmas bird counts going back to the early part of the past century, and are mentioned in several chronicles of long-ago Minnesota bird life. When conditions turned brutal, those birds either perished or headed southward.
Warmer nights
Another part of the story is our warming climate: Temperatures on winter nights simply don't sink as low as they used to, and this makes it easier for birds to survive. Christmas bird count data track very closely to Minnesota's rising nighttime temperatures, with robin numbers beginning to trend upward strongly in the mid-1990s.
"I definitely think climate change is a factor," says Lee Pfannmuller, a biologist with Audubon Minnesota.