I come from a long line of wild bird feeders.
My Gran E. had the typical detritus on her kitchen table–salt and pepper shakers, sugar bowl, toothpick and napkin holders–and a stack of books that helped her identify nearly any bird that stopped at one of her feeders.
When our mom lived with me, my siblings and I put up several feeders in front of the window to her room (the same window I look out now as I sit here and type this). She had her own stack of bird identification books.
At her urging, I even made peanut butter and lard-based suet cakes that the birds devoured. We even had some furry “birds” visit one night. We had three very well-fed raccoons snacking on the suet they picked off the feeders … which were on the ground … with seeds spread all over … because the raccoons figured out a way to knock the feeders off the shepherd’s hook they hung from. Sneaky rascals.
Who am I kidding? The dogs probably knocked them down while they tried to get at the suet. Recently, I made more suet cakes using some left-over bacon grease I was collecting in my refrigerator. The dogs knocked the feeders down and ate most of them … as was evidenced by the contents of their “waste deposits” for several days after.
Now, I sit in my office, watch the birds, and think of my Gran E. and my mom. They would talk about the birds like they were people in their own hierarchical community. Each bird, each specie knew its place and visited the feeders at different times of the day, accordingly.
The small birds visit first thing in the morning–sparrows, juncos, chickadees and finches. They each like certain seeds and know which feeders contain what. They flit around like finicky eaters trying to get that just-right morsel. They are also very messy, and they knock the seeds they don’t want out of the feeders onto the ground, which works out well for the turtle doves that show up in the afternoon to clean up what the little birds have dropped … like nannies or babysitters trying to clean up the house before mom and dad get home.
When the starlings descend–look out! They come in droves and squawk and fuss with each other like not very nice siblings. It’s the ultimate sibling rivalry, as the best seeds are the ones being eaten by another bird. The grass is always greener … right?
Just as quickly as the starlings appear, they vanish the same way.
Now it’s time for the cardinals. Gran E. loved redbirds. For every holiday, we grandkids would always get her something with a cardinal on it. The cardinals are picky, too, but not loud and annoying like the starlings. Cardinals want one thing–sunflower seeds. They come in pairs … male and female, bright red and a drab grayish pink … and hop around on the ground with the turtle doves.
The blue jays wait until there is a lull in the activity. They love nuts and dried fruit. They’re also very skittish. They swoop in, grab a nut or berry, and zip off for a tree nearby so they can eat. They have a distinctive caw and can be bullies sometimes, but I think they’re beautiful. They act like that friend who only drops in when he knows food will be on the table. And, as soon as the meal is over, “gotta go. Thanks for the food.” And off he goes.
Then there are the cowbirds, red-winged blackbirds and grackles. They usually show up one at a time, like your elusive neighbor who shows up once in a blue moon but seems to know everything that’s been going on in the neighborhood.
Then there are my favorites–the woodpeckers. We’ve had downy, red-bellied and red-headed woodpeckers. Mostly we have the little downy woodpeckers that hang on the sides of the feeders, defying gravity, showing off for anyone who will watch. “Look at me!” they seem to cry.
I have seen a Pileated woodpecker in the neighborhood … the ones with a bright red mohawk … but we mostly hear them as they tap, tap, tap on nearby trees.
I am constantly amazed at how these little, next-to-nothing beings survive the cold, wind, and ice of an Ohio winter. They are faithful with their visits. They are hardy and they just keep going.
They don’t complain about the cold. They don’t cry about how terrible their lives are. They sing and chirp and trill. They scritch and scratch through the snow, foraging for whatever they can find.
They just live–for right now. They don’t wish they had the seeds from yesterday or fret about whether they’ll have anything tomorrow. They live in the now.
I wish I could be more like a bird.
Until next week,
Susie from Stix-N-Stonez