A Surprise Moment with the Red Crossbill

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Who knew a Red Crossbill was on the horizon? On our way back down from Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, my dear friend and photography partner Brooke and I pointed the Jeep toward Michigan State Parks’ Kitch-iti-kipi in Palms Book State Park. Drawn by the promise of its crystal blue-green spring water, we were just a few miles away. The snow-packed roads, the kind that ask you to slow down whether you want to or not, lead the way.

We didn’t mind. Winter up north rewards patience.

I’m always watching the road and edges this time of year. Winter birds often drop down to feed on grit. Those fleeting roadside moments can turn into unexpected encounters. With pristine white snow draped over evergreens and a near-hush that felt light, there was no reason to rush. The landscape itself was an invitation to linger as even the tires quietly whooshed through the snow

That’s when I noticed movement ahead — pinkish birds flitting and hopping from the ground up to the pines. Pine Grosbeaks, I thought intially. It made sense. The color, the habitat, the way they moved through the trees.

We pulled over and quietly stepped out, the only sound now being snowflakes brushing our jackets and lenses. As we slowly moved closer, the pink deepened. Or was it red? The birds darted in and out of the branches, playing an expert game of hide-and-seek.

Falling snow and low light made it difficult to pick up fine details. This definitely was not ideal shooting light.

ISO climbed fast — 10,000 and counting — just to get a clean enough frame for identification. Proof of sight, at the very least. Then a bird zipped past me, close enough for a second glance.

That wasn’t a Grosbeak.

It was a Red Crossbill!

A lifer for Brooke. And my first time seeing one against falling snow.

At that point, there was no turning back. We wanted more than documentation. We wanted to tell the moment’s story. The color against the snow, the intimacy of the encounter, the thrill of realizing your first assumption was wrong.

Somehow, it came together.

Back home, lifting the shadows revealed the same tones I remembered. The richness of the feathers, the softness of the snow, the calm energy of that brief exchange. Looking at the Red Crossbill image now, I realize the speciality of this moment. A chance sighting, sharing the moment with a fellow birder and a memory card with images that require some work to bring it back to life.

Author’s Note:

That moment reinforced something I return to again and again in the field. Slow down. Trust your bird photography skills. Trust your camera. Pay attention to the small details. In bird photography — and often in life — first impressions aren’t always the full story.

Sometimes, the reward comes when you take a second look.