It was a fine day for snowshoeing.

A fresh snow had fallen two days before, and the forest floor was decently covered by about a foot of soft powder. The day was overcast, conveying a slightly forbidding and gloomy mien, although nothing more was forecast besides a snow flurry or two. I almost decided not to go out, but I wanted to experience this particular mood of nature to see what it had in store for me.

I picked Sunkhaze Meadows National Wildlife Refuge in Milford for my outing, in particular the Oak Point Trail from the County Road. I had done this trail two years before with a friend, and although we didn’t see many birds then, we had found a porcupine sitting high up in a conifer dining on its bark. We also discovered the remains of a fox’s meal – telltale spatters of blood and the tip of a red squirrel’s tail were all that remained. I was interested to see what the test of winter would show me this time around.

I didn’t have long to wait. The trail offered easy travel; previous snowshoers had already beaten a path through the soft snow, and I thought it resembled a creek winding its way between 6-inch-high banks. As I scrunched along, I heard a familiar call note and caught a quick glimpse of a small bird darting among the evergreens. Presently it emerged and settled on a birch tree bowed over with the weight of snow. It was an American tree sparrow. This lovely little sparrow with its two-toned bill (the upper mandible is black; the lower is tan), and a distinct small dark spot in the middle of its breast was feeding on the tree’s “catkins” – the dense cluster of highly nutritious seeds produced by the tree.

Nearby, I heard the calls of black-capped chickadees, red-breasted nuthatches, and golden crowned kinglets. I continued to hear and see these birds as I continued along the trail. Every so often a bold, curious little chickadee would approach me for a closer look. But the real magic happened as I neared the end of the trail.

I had entered the oak grove that juts out into the peatland. True to its name, it contained many oak trees, including a tree that I thought might be an eastern hophornbeam (I need to become better at identifying trees). This tree had sack-like, papery casings that were egg-shaped and contained small seeds. Feeding on these was a large flock of purple finches. In addition, chickadees, nuthatches, and goldfinches foraged throughout this small area of hardwood forest, each pursuing its own favored food item. Both downy and hairy woodpeckers were also present.

I stood, watched, and listened. It was silent save for the birds’ activity: the sounds of crackling seed cases; the woodpeckers’ soft tapping for dormant insects; the flutter of wings; and the soft, intermittent contact calls fell softly like snowflakes around me. For them, this was survival, pure and simple.

For me, it was a winter’s delight.

Chris Corio, a volunteer at Fields Pond Nature Center in Holden, can be reached at fieldspond@juno.com