The label says ‘bird food,’ but as the bag sat upright in the corner of the garage, it became a mouse silo. Those furry little fellows waited a day or two before surreptitiously entering from the back, behind, in the corner. Despite their best efforts to keep their secret entrance hidden, they began to leave evidence. Poop and seeds appeared here and there before we noticed. My wife picked up the bag to discover a flowing stream of seeds waterfalling freely. An expletive, escaping my thoughts left my mouth. What to do?
Nature always wins. We purchase a large plastic bin. We buy more bird food and seal it inside, but we know better. Sure, the birds eat it - but so do all their furry neighbors. Assuming that the seed, what was left, makes it to the feeder, and the feeder makes it to the shepherd's hook in the yard, it becomes little more than a circus playground for the neighborhood. Squirrels, little yard monkeys, begin by eating what falls to the ground, until one of them decides to shinny up the pole. Soon their acrobatic antics involve hanging up-side-down and throwing out what they don’t like, selecting the best bits for themselves.
Then, using some sort of the silent woodland grapevine every animal is alerted. Hungry critters of all sizes begin to stop by. Deer, grateful to have dessert placed at just the right height, nosh on the gourmet seed selection. Nearing the house they take their time, often emptying the feeder twice a day. I implement an exercise regimen and wave my aging appendages hollering at the apathetic ungulates while they look at me as if to ask, ‘What’s his problem?” before slowly sauntering away. Whatever happened to fight or flight? I wonder.
Recently, before heading to the porch with my sweet tea, I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, then, noticing a new resident in our refrigerator call out, “grape jelly?”
“That’s for the birds!” Says a disembodied voice in the other room.
“Sure it is! “ I reply with no conviction.
But after a few days of watching my wife fill the bowl hanging from the hook we find not one, but three Baltimore Orioles, visiting. Replete in their orange and black finery, they now appear daily, clucking their songs and waiting their turns as they eat grape jelly, and peck on an orange slice. Jays, and cardinals arrive in fine feathered hoodies daily, colored and costumed, other birds of various sizes and plumage join the regulars.
I set the sandwich down, sitting on the porch. Appearing and disappearing just as quickly. a hummingbird, drawn to a sugary solution, quickly sips from its feeder before sailing away. Sitting on the porch with binoculars nearby, distracted by nature, trying to read my book, I listen as a pileated woodpecker, a beauty of a bug eater, begins hammering away in the distance, digging for lunch in a faraway tree.
Sitting on the porch, trying to read, I get nothing done. This is for the birds, I think, as a hawk’s shadow silences song, as mice, and deer, and chipmunks and squirrels wait their turns in the treed perimeter. Mike@MikePerry.biz