Snow began again yesterday evening, and before we went up to bed for the night my husband went out to distribute fresh seeds and nuts in the large rectangular box feeder standing below the two bird feeders on a pole which didn't need refurbishing. He got up again this morning well before dawn, intending to shovel out the walkways in the back garden so that Jackie and Jillie wouldn't have to flounder through the snow first thing when they went out.

He paused as usual to look out the glassed front door and there, peering through the darkness he saw the same sight that had greeted him the morning before. The rectangular feeding trough was teeming with doves, about twenty in all, seated within and pecking to their hearts' content. The squirrels arrived later, after the doves had departed, as my husband noted on his return trip once he had finished shovelling the snow in back.

It was a mental challenge to get out there this morning, one I would have lost, but not my husband. The temperature had risen slightly from its overnight dip to minus 16 degrees, cold enough, but made incredibly biting cold by a brisk wind that drove icicle daggers of cold wherever it penetrated. We have enjoyed a week of relatively mild weather, in line with what climatologists predicted for this winter, given the el Nino effect, stronger this year than most, of blocking the Arctic air mass that usually drifts over wintry Canada.

So with highs of minus 6 degrees -- and of course that intolerable wind -- we also had both minor snowfalls of exquisite beauty, and ample sun, alternately. Usually mild enough so we could dispense with boots for our little Poodles. In the last few days they've needed those boots, and that was because when it's cold enough and there's fresh snow down, icy cold penetrates their tiny paws. With the boots they're able to cavort and disport themselves to their hearts' content, and they do, giving us ample reason to chortle with laughter, watching their antics. As they race along the trail, we can even hear their booted feet pounding, just as though they were miniature horses.

It was so penetratingly cold this morning we figured they might be in need of some protection first thing in the morning, so on went their little sweaters before they ventured out. We're doing some anthropomorphizing there, to be certain. When they come back into the house, they frantically swarm, and leap about everywhere, revelling in the warmth of the interior. But by no means are they loathe to face the outside with its burden of cold and snow; it's simply another attractive alternative for them.

Its the birds we feel pity for, having to cope with these difficult conditions. We've noted lately new visitors, House Finches, small birds with pink on their backs and chests and heads, very attractive, originally native to the mountains of British Columbia which have gradually made their way to our geography. They, like cardinals which decades ago would never be seen in an Ottawa winter, now appear regularly at area bird feeders.