Winter birding can be very challenging.

I’m not talking temperature-wise. When it’s too cold to remain comfortably outside for any length of time, birders may choose to just drive to their favorite local hotspots and have a quick look around. Staying in the vehicle provides a good benefit, as it acts as a blind and often allows great closeups of birds that are unaware of your presence.

There’s one caveat, though: the birds have to cooperate and be there in the first place. Often, that’s not the case in winter. Not only are there fewer birds, but resources are fewer and often widely scattered. Cone and nut crops may be good in one location, but quickly depleted. Winter fruit crop productivity can be extremely variable as well.

But even when you think you should see birds in a certain locale, still you may come up empty. I found out this was the case for a group of Audubon birders on a field trip last week. One of the trip leaders, Bob Duchesne, had scouted one of his routes the day before, and had found some great birds – gray jays, a boreal chickadee, white-winged crossbills, and a barred owl. No such luck was had the next day.

It was an almost complete bust, as my friend Paul Markson had relayed to me. I think they saw a total of three birds – a goldeneye, a merganser, and, Paul said, “Someone swore they saw a red-breasted nuthatch.”

For those of you who don’t know, red-breasted nuthatches are a pretty common bird around here. In winter, they will often flock with black-capped chickadees and golden-crowned kinglets. These roving flocks are often the only things to enliven a stark winter landscape.

Paul and I speculated why such a flock was not seen that day. Most likely, it was a case of not being in the right place at the right time. These small songbirds probably had to roam over a large distance to find the dormant insects (or a well-stocked backyard bird feeder) they rely on in the winter. Such is the nature of winter birding.

So it was pure luck that I stumbled upon a small flock of cedar waxwings the other day outside of where I work.

Their high-pitched, lispy call notes reached me first. I had to look carefully to find them among the tangle of crabapple branches they perched in. These particular trees still held a pretty decent fruit crop, and the waxwings were snapping off the little berry-sized fruits and popping them whole into their mouths.

They were gone the next day, probably in search of more crabapple fruit. I may make a special birding trip this weekend, but the best thing I can do is to keep my eyes and ears open.

Expect the unexpected – the first tenet of winter birding.

BDN bird columnist Chris Corio can be reached at bdnsports@bangordailynews.net