Birds
Bought a new bird feeder. It’s designed to defeat house sparrows and squirrels. The food in the new feeder sits in a tube surrounded by wire mesh that slides down when something heavy hangs on it. Like squirrels and doves and big birds. The food opening is small. The primary target is finches. Little birds with polite manners. So far. No finches. Cardinals have come. One house sparrow. And a heifer. She came up. Started butting the feeder and eating off the ground. We had a standoff while I took the feeder down. She was unhappy. So was I.
I put the feeder back in the Sumac away from the fence and closer to the house. It was a mistake to hang it in the Mesquite directly on the fence where an inquisitive heifer might find it. So, now I’m back to waiting to see if the little birds find it before the feed goes bad. I think they’ll come. We have gold finches, and house finches, and lots of wrens. I’ve seen them in the past, and I’m sure I’ll see them again. One needs patience in this sort of endeavor. When it comes to birds, I’ve got it. I can wait. And wait. And wait.
I think that’s the point with birds. Waiting. Sitting still. Listening. Looking. Becoming something like a tree. Or, in the case of my cats, becoming something like the ground and the grass. We’re hunting. Food in both cases. One for the body. One for the soul. You can work out who is doing what. I hope the feeder starts drawing a crowd before the little grandkids return. I bought them binoculars and bird books for Christmas. They’ve been watching at home. When they return, we’ll watch together, here. That will be fun. So, come on birds. There’s food. Just for you. And me.