Where corvids come to to drink al'caw'hol.

I wear many coats though I’m not for the cold, I make strong folks cry, though I’m timid and old. Chop me to bits, I’ll still flavour your bowl

I sound like I smell worse, than that rose or daisy word. Don't fall into my trap, It's literally for the birds

I start as a whisper on a sleeping tree, I drink the sun and breathe the breeze. I fall without a sound each year, Yet I feed the world when I am here.

My first part unique, it's cold and it's white. My second part round and may face a dog's bite. Put us together for a fun winter fight.