The Birds

Growing up in a world without video games, Facebook and televisions with a thousand channels meant my siblings and I had to make our own fun with what was available.  I was not an outdoorsy kid but I quickly discovered that if I wanted a break from folding mounds of diapers and performing other household chores I would have to escape into the spaces beyond my front door. My sibs and I made up our own games like “Hide the Can” in our grove of trees where we imitated treasure seekers of old and searched for each other’s hidden cans. We crunched along on gravel roads with our creaky old bikes, destinations to be determined. Wild plums and mulberries beckoned us when they were in season and we filled our stomachs full of their rich juices. We poked around the old cemetery near our farm and scared each other with creepy tales.

One of my favorite activities was bird watching. My mother purchased a field guide of North American birds and suddenly a new world of opportunities opened up. We would head out into the fields with our little book and a pair of binoculars, hoping to see or hear a new bird to identify. I loved hearing the beautiful trill of the Eastern Meadowlark and watching the flight patterns of the Red-Winged Blackbirds as they flitted from fence post to fence post. We didn't have to set up fancy bird feeders because our backyard was one gigantic feeder with everything our rural birds needed.

Since that time, I have lived in urban settings, often without any established trees and I abandoned my overt birdwatching habits. That is, until the horrific ice storm we endured last spring. I felt so sorry for our feathered little friends that I put out an old cookie sheet with some bread crumbs and hoped that I could help just a few of them find a meal.

Now I’m hooked. I was only going to help them out during the ice storm but they convinced me otherwise. Truth to be told, we need each other. I can think of nothing more calming than watching and listening to birds. The little chickadees chatter away while they pick at the tray of seeds. The male cowbirds puff up as they try to woo the somewhat unimpressed females. The bossy blackbirds bully their way into the crowd and have their way with the food choices. The mourning doves plop themselves down on the feeder and take an after dinner nap. The cardinals make their presence known with their bright colors and loquacious manners. The goldfinches bippety-bop their way to the feeder for a snack and quickly flit away. And of course, the squirrels move in like playground bullies, taking away the lunch money of others.

My garage sale field guide is now dog-eared and always at the ready as I reacquaint myself with my in-flight neighbors. I hope to graduate to something more high tech than a cookie sheet for my feeder, but so far, the birds haven’t complained. After all, that same pan fed us with many delicious treats so why not continue the tradition with my new found friends?

Bon appetit!