03/14/2022
Lynn Murphy Mark
When I sit at the computer I can look out the window at the bird feeder hanging a few feet away. I love watching the birds come and help themselves to the free food. The feeder has six slots where seeds can be accessed. Somehow it has been decided that certain spots are prime real estate and two or three birds will try to eat from the preferred spot at the same time. I realize that they literally have bird brains but surely they can see that there are plenty of seats at the table.
Most of the birds are pretty small. I don’t know what kinds they are. Some have a gray breast with a black cap, some are a brindle brown and some have an orange cap on a brown body. They are the most common partakers. There are several bird “couples” who come: a pair of fat Robins, Mr. and Mrs. Cardinals, and Mr. and Mrs. Doves. They are regulars who wait patiently for the riff raff to finish eating. As in real life, it seems to me that the women of the couples do most of the work: they balance on the swinging feeder and drop goodies to the ground where the men are waiting for their dinner to be served. Some things apply across species.
There are two interloper squirrels that irritate me and drive Mollie Dog nuts. I do have to admire their persistent tries to get to the food. Most of the time they drop off of the pole that holds the feeder and then are content to eat the scraps on the ground. But one squirrel is determined. I watched him climb up the pole partway and slide down. He kept trying, getting closer to the top with each try. When he made it to the top, I wondered how he would manage the shepherd’s crook that holds the feeder.
The squirrel could have been an Olympic gymnast. He made his way carefully down the curve of the crook. Then he hung upside down to reach the top of the feeder, still about six inches from the food. I didn’t know squirrels are made of rubber, but this guy stretched himself impossibly and got his face into one of the food openings. All this activity took him a long time, so as irritated as I was that he was eating bird food, I kind of admired his spunk. I admired him until I noticed how fast the food was disappearing. I’ve only seen him climb his Mount Everest once, so I let him have his day.
Even though there is always plenty of food, the little birds act like Middle School kids at lunch. Only certain ones can share the feeder and if strangers approach the regulars a scuffle ensues. Wings flap, little bodies collide, and the food is forgotten until the interlopers retreat. Then the regular squad sits back down at their table. I didn’t know that birds can lose their tempers, but Mr. and Mrs. Robins just had a huge argument. It involved several mid-air collisions and lots of flapping feathers but they seem to have settled whatever was going on. Back to business as usual.
I am grateful for the drama that occurs outside my window. The little restaurant that I have opened is doing a booming business. Those little creatures are eating me out of seed and home. In return, they pay me with their antics and they give me a few minutes of nature’s best. Thank God for that!