“At 20 below, a chickadee has to find food every few minutes or it won’t see sunrise. My snowman kept them going for 47 winters.” — Why a 71-year-old Wisconsin woman is letting her last hand-painted snowman feeders go at a special price, before her brushes go down for good and the winter birds lose her yard.

It is 6:40 in the morning in Sister Bay, Wisconsin, and the thermometer on the porch reads 11 below zero. Ardith Solberg walks out to the old apple tree in her boots. A snowman hangs from the lowest branch. She lifts off his black top hat and pours in a scoop of seed.

She has not even reached the porch steps when the first chickadee lands. Then a second. Four minutes later, a pair of cardinals drop down onto the tray under the snowman’s belly. The male is so red against the snow that it almost hurts to look at.

Ardith is 71. She has painted snowmen like this one in a small barn behind her house for 47 winters. This winter is her last.

“People think birds are fine in the cold. They’re not fine. They’re just quiet about it.”

A chickadee weighs about as much as two quarters. On one cold night, it can lose a tenth of that just to stay warm. Ardith keeps a newspaper clipping on her barn wall about a study from the University of Wisconsin. It found that when it drops below 10 degrees, chickadees with a full feeder close by survived the winter almost twice as often as birds that had to find food on their own.

The ice storm morning that started it all

In January 1979, an ice storm covered the whole peninsula in glass. Trees cracked all night. In the morning, the old tin feeder in the Solbergs’ yard was empty and frozen shut.

Under it, in the snow, Ardith found three chickadees. They were too weak to fly. She carried them inside in a shoebox and set them by the wood stove. By noon, two of them flew out the kitchen door. The third did not.

Her father Gunnar looked at the empty feeder for a long time. Then he said something Ardith has never forgotten.

“A feeder that’s empty by noon is not a feeder. It’s a decoration.”

That winter, the two of them built a feeder with a big round belly that held days of seed, not hours. Ardith painted a face on it so her little nieces would want to help fill it. A snowman, with a black top hat as the lid. By spring, half the neighbors had asked for one.

Two hours, one brush and a smile of eleven dots

The workshop is an old dairy barn, no bigger than a two-car garage. A wood stove ticks in the corner. Shelves run along every wall, full of white snowmen waiting for their faces.

Ardith paints each one herself. Two coal-black eyes. An orange carrot nose. Pink cheeks. And a smile of exactly eleven little dots. Then the red-and-white striped scarf, and a sprig of pine with red berries on the hat. Each snowman takes her about two hours.

“If the smile is crooked, I start the face over. A child will notice. So will I.”

In 47 winters, about 9,000 of her snowmen have gone out into yards from Wisconsin to Maine.

What 47 winters taught her about feeding birds in the cold

Ardith does not talk like someone selling something. She talks like someone who has stood at a frozen window every January since 1979, watching what works and what does not.

• “The Top-Hat Lid”: Lift the hat, pour in the seed, put the hat back. No screws, no tools, and you can do it with mittens on. “At six in the morning in January, nobody wants to fiddle with a latch.”
• “The Big Belly”: The snowman’s round body holds enough seed for several cold days. That was Gunnar’s whole point. “The worst storms are the days you can’t get out to the tree. That’s when they need it most.”
• “The Cardinal Tray”: Under the belly sits a wide, round tray. It catches the seed that falls out, so nothing is lost in the snow. And it gives cardinals a flat place to stand. “Cardinals don’t like to hang on to a little feeder. They want to stand and eat like a person at a table.”
• “The Two Little Doors”: Two arched openings, each with its own perch, for chickadees, finches, nuthatches and sparrows. The wide hat brim keeps snow off the seed. “Wet seed freezes into a brick. Dry seed gets eaten.”

From the kitchen window, most people think it is just a Christmas decoration. A snowman in a top hat, swinging in the apple tree. Then a red cardinal lands on his tray, and the whole yard comes alive.

It hangs from a branch, a porch hook or a shepherd’s pole on its own chain. And in the summer, many people simply leave it up. The birds don’t care that it’s a snowman in July.

The morning her hand would not hold the brush

Last October, Ardith sat down to paint a smile and her right hand would not stay still. The arthritis had been creeping into her fingers for years. That morning, the eleven dots came out as a wobbly line.

She tried again the next day, and the day after. Then she put the brush down.

“I can still fill the feeder. I just can’t paint the face anymore. And a snowman without a face is just a lump of snow.”

What she will miss most is not the work. It is the first cold morning of the season, when she hangs a brand-new snowman in her own apple tree and waits at the window for the first chickadee to find it.

The last snowmen she finished are stacked on the barn shelves. There are 212 of them. When they are gone, there will not be any more.

“They belong in a tree this winter, not on a shelf”

In September, a gift shop owner from Green Bay drove up to the barn. She offered to buy all 212 snowmen at once and sell them next Christmas for $89 each.

Ardith said no. Next Christmas is too late. The birds need them this winter.

So she set her price low, just above what it costs her to make them. She could ask much more, and anyone would understand. She won’t.

“If one more yard has chickadees in it on the coldest morning of the year, that’s worth more to me than the money.”

Whoever hangs one of her last snowmen this winter keeps a little of that ice storm morning in 1979 going.

What bird lovers say about Ardith’s snowmen

• ★★★★★

  “Hung it on a Tuesday. By Thursday I had two cardinals on the tray every morning. I have never had cardinals in 30 years in this house.”

  Marilyn H., Eau Claire, WI
• ★★★★★

  “My hands aren’t what they used to be. With this one I just lift the hat and pour. Takes a minute, even in gloves.”

  Gerald F., Duluth, MN
• ★★★★★

  “Bought it as a Christmas gift for my mother. She calls me every morning to tell me which birds came. The little face makes her smile every time.”

  Karen D., Rochester, NY

Three questions people ask before ordering

Where can I buy one of Ardith’s snowmen?

Only through this page. Ardith’s snowman feeders are not sold on Amazon, Temu or in any store.

How long will they be available?

Only while supplies last. Ardith can no longer paint new ones, and 212 are left in her barn. Once they are gone, there will not be any more.

What if it’s not right for me?

You have 30 days to try it in your own yard. If you are not happy, just send a short email and you will get your money back. No questions, no hassle.

More from people who watch theirs from the kitchen window

• ★★★★★

  “We had a three-day blizzard in January. I couldn’t get out to the tree, but the snowman still had seed on day three. The chickadees never stopped coming.”

  Dale R., Marquette, MI
• ★★★★★

  “Even prettier than the photos. You can see the little brush strokes in the smile. It came packed so well, not a scratch on it.”

  Patricia N., Burlington, VT
• ★★★★★

  “My grandson named him Frosty and checks on him every time he visits. Now he wants to know the name of every bird that lands on the tray.”

  Linda B., Fargo, ND