I chuckle every time I see Vermont's state bird, the Hermit Thrush, perch on the mealworm feeder.  He migrated south for warmer temps and more-plentiful food.  I think the Thrush's face says it all:  

It's a sad, sad day.  The Retreat's temps are dropping into the teens at night ... and the menu stinks!  Seriously?  Who over-cooked these mealworms?! *

*The birds get a bit of an attitude when I switch from live to dried mealworms (which I do soon after fledglings mature in the late summer).  They'll descend on the worm feeder, expecting a juicy tidbit.  One-by-one, they'll toss the dried worms overboard in search of something squishy.  Eventually they leave without eating a morsel -- a pile of dried mealworms on the ground.  When alternate food sources begin to disappear, however, the struggle ends.  Most of the mealworm crowd chows down.  I'm experienced at this.  I raised teenagers once upon a time.