Birds

We’ve set up bird feeders outside our dining room window. It’s a pretty big window, measuring, oh, I would say about 5 ft x 4 ft. We live out in the country, “somewhere in the Midwest.” We’ve set up two shepherd’s crooks, each with two prongs. One prong holds a cage with a suet cube, the other a rather ordinary cylinder containing bird seeds. The other crook also has a cage, but it’s empty now, and the other prong holds what appears to be a hexagonal shaped wooden pan, containing an assortment of bird seed and some peanuts. It’s pretty impressive to see quite the collection of species feeding themselves: there are finches, swallows, tit-mouse (tit-mice?) cardinals, bluejays, some woodpecker whose name I forget now - has a spotted underbelly, striped wings and a bright red crown on the back of its head. I could look it up in our bird book, but that takes the magic away from the wonderment of the moment.

I’ve seen more species of birds since moving to our country home than in all my life since memory. I look forward to watching the birds feed. Watch them fly in from the woods and land on the feeders, mingle with their own, or other species. Occasionally one, or several, might have a tantrum and chase each other away from the feeder. For the most part there are several species of bird peacefully sharing, communing with each other as they feed. Reminiscent of an outdoor café.