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Blane Klemek: Brrrrrr. How do wildlife do it?

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The thermometer read 22 degrees below a few mornings ago at my house in the woods.

The snow squeaked underfoot on my way to the shed to get the morning’s supply of black-oil sunflower seeds for filling the birdfeeders — squeak, squeak, crunch, crunch as I walked to each of the feeders holding a plastic pitcher full of seed.

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