November was cold and nasty this year. With an Alberta clipper (or polar vortex) invading Minnesota, the subzero air was accompanied by strong winds, frequently gusting to over 30 miles per hour.

Conditions were brutal early in the season.

On the upside, the cruel weather afforded me the opportunity to photograph a bird not so easily approached during normal weather.

One morning a few weeks ago I awoke to the sound of wind buffeting my house. The Arctic winds had picked up overnight, ushering in a blast of frigid Canadian air.

I donned a warm coverall, stocking cap and mittens before stepping outside to fill my bird feeders. The sky was gray. A light snow was falling.

As I completed my task, I noted tree limbs barren of leaves waving goodbye to any thoughts of Indian summer. Whirlwinds of snow spun wildly here and there as the flakes sought a sheltered spot.

Back in the house, I watched as various birds gathered to feast at my feeders. I didn't even bother with my camera. Birds perched on constantly waving, windblown branches are nearly impossible to photograph.

Then I noticed a pileated woodpecker on my suet feeder. I watched as the large black bird with the red topknot fed briefly. Then it flew to a mature bur oak tree and took a seat on the tree's leeward. It was attempting to hide from the icy wind while digesting its meal.

Minutes later, the woodpecker flew back to the feeder where it again picked at the frozen suet. As I sipped a cup of coffee, I watched this scenario repeat itself over and over.

Time to act.

I went outside and placed a blind near the bur oak tree, using cement bricks to keep the gusty wind from blowing it over. Then I retreated to the warm house.

Pretty soon the pileated woodpecker returned to the suet feeder before flying back to the bur oak. It totally ignored my blind. That was my cue.

I quickly gathered my photography gear and entered the blind. My wait was short. Within minutes, the hungry woodpecker flew to the suet feeder. The big bird hung upside down as it fed from the hanging feeder. It was so windy the feeder was swaying in the wind, woodpecker and all.

Then, much to my delight, the bird flew to its spot on the bur oak, a mere 15 feet from my blind. I was ready. I shot numerous images of the woodpecker in a horizontal format. Then I pivoted to a vertical position and snapped some more.

Finally the pileated woodpecker flew off, but not before I obtained some great images.

Bill Marchel, an outdoors writer and photographer, lives near Brainerd.