Knothead
I have birds. Little ones. At the feeder. Taking a bite. Flying off to eat. Black-crested Titmouse. Carolina Wren. Female goldfinch. Cardinals. Even sparrows, with table manners. The food is bits of sunflower seeds and peanuts. The birds reach in through small openings. Take a bite. Some eat right there, but most go into the sumac or the mesquite. A little fluttering parade.
The feeder hangs relatively close to the back windows. I can watch from the comfort of my easy chair. I have a perch. The birds have four. The birds discovered the feeder this weekend while I was gallivanting around Texas helping live-stream a music event and working the sound. It appears we all had fun. They got food for the body. I got food for the soul. My bonus is the birds. And a good night’s sleep, and a visit from my cousin yesterday who popped in unexpectedly yesterday.
I’m tired, though. Saturday was a long day on my feet. And a long day of paying attention, and my brain needed a rest. I got it last night. I was so tired Saturday night I whacked my head coming out of the trailer after packing some gear. At full speed. Right on top. A sensitive spot. I walked slowly into the dark and cussed. I tried to do it under my breath, while trying to figure out if I’d drawn blood. Friends inquired as to my well-being. There was no blood. Just knot on top of my head. We finished the work. Locked up and went home.