As you know, my hummingbird feeder has been a huge success. But there’s a whole world of non-humming birds out there, and they too need to be lured in where I can see them while working. To that end, I dug up my old seed feeder, bought a bag of seed mix, and hung the feeder in the backyard. Once again, the waiting game began.
This time there was less waiting. Here’s how it went:
Day 1: No birds.
Day 2: One House Finch.
Day 3: Two House Finches.
Day 4 and every day since: A shitstorm of House Finches.
This time there was less waiting. Here’s how it went:
Day 1: No birds.
Day 2: One House Finch.
Day 3: Two House Finches.
Day 4 and every day since: A shitstorm of House Finches.
It's bedlam.
I now awake every day to the shrieking of two dozen House Finches. The little red and brown bastards coat the concrete patio like the stubble in the sink when I shave. This is a good thing, sure; I've proven eminently capable of convincing wild birds to eat stuff that I paid for. But variety is the spice of life. Fortunately, other characters drop in from time to time:
California Towhee
A pair of California Towhees used to chase the House Finches away when there were just one or two of them. Nowadays, overwhelmed by the finches’ swelling ranks, they stop in for a bite or two and go quietly on their way.
White-crowned Sparrow
This young sparrow will don its white crown in the spring. I hadn’t seen these guys in the neighborhood until my seeds went out, so I’m giving myself mad props for this one.
White-throated Sparrow
This bird is uncommon in the entire L.A. area, and here I have one stopping in my yard every day. #WINNING
… and of course a squirrel. Meh.
Anyway, what’s amazing to me is how deeply intertwined the birds’ lives and mine have become, and how quickly. A few weeks ago, I was not someone who fed birds. For years, I was content to see whatever happened by my window, never intervening in the natural order of things. (Unless you count the space my home was taking up, the electricity and gas I was using, the waste I was generating, etc. etc. etc. DETAILS.)
Cut to today: I’m basically the Sam Malone of an avian Cheers. Every day the regulars roll in like clockwork, chatting amongst themselves as they gulp down their “usual” (seeds). Every evening, as they retire to their separate roosting places, their parting is made easier by the knowledge that they’ll see each other tomorrow at The Feeder. It’s heartwarming, really.
As for me, though my initial curiosity has been sated, I’m happy to keep footing the bill. Bird feeding, like birding, is subject to a sort of momentum that eventually frees it from the need of any reason. I just keep on doing it, even when – and yes, I am aware – I find myself doing things that would appear increasingly strange to a normal human observer.
A couple days ago I had a newcomer – a Western Scrub-Jay dropped in to have a look around.
Anyway, what’s amazing to me is how deeply intertwined the birds’ lives and mine have become, and how quickly. A few weeks ago, I was not someone who fed birds. For years, I was content to see whatever happened by my window, never intervening in the natural order of things. (Unless you count the space my home was taking up, the electricity and gas I was using, the waste I was generating, etc. etc. etc. DETAILS.)
Cut to today: I’m basically the Sam Malone of an avian Cheers. Every day the regulars roll in like clockwork, chatting amongst themselves as they gulp down their “usual” (seeds). Every evening, as they retire to their separate roosting places, their parting is made easier by the knowledge that they’ll see each other tomorrow at The Feeder. It’s heartwarming, really.
As for me, though my initial curiosity has been sated, I’m happy to keep footing the bill. Bird feeding, like birding, is subject to a sort of momentum that eventually frees it from the need of any reason. I just keep on doing it, even when – and yes, I am aware – I find myself doing things that would appear increasingly strange to a normal human observer.
A couple days ago I had a newcomer – a Western Scrub-Jay dropped in to have a look around.
This sucks but it’s the best one I got.
Vexingly, I had run out of seeds, and there was nothing but husks littering the patio. Dammit! This was my chance to let him know my establishment was worth visiting again. I took a desperate look through my kitchen, which seldom contains anything edible even for humans – and seized upon a box of cereal. Then there was the matter of getting the food out to him. I couldn’t walk outside or I’d surely scare him off – I needed a window. But the windows in the kitchen had screens that were not easily removed. My mind continued to race, in full-on bird-feeding MacGyver mode. Must… feed… bird….
And that, gracious readers, is how I found myself, a grown-ass man at home in the middle of the day, sprinting upstairs to my office, opening the window, lifting the screen, and showering a bewildered, three-ounce bird with a fistful of Honey Nut Cheerios.
Life is crazy, amirite?
The scrub-jay did take a few of those Cheerios, but soon wandered off to the neighbor’s yard, and then beyond. I haven’t seen him since, and I can't predict the tenor of his forthcoming review on Bird Yelp. But those birds that do drop in will find me eager to please. I guess at the end of the day – and the beginning and the middle – you might as well have some familiar faces around.
And that, gracious readers, is how I found myself, a grown-ass man at home in the middle of the day, sprinting upstairs to my office, opening the window, lifting the screen, and showering a bewildered, three-ounce bird with a fistful of Honey Nut Cheerios.
Life is crazy, amirite?
The scrub-jay did take a few of those Cheerios, but soon wandered off to the neighbor’s yard, and then beyond. I haven’t seen him since, and I can't predict the tenor of his forthcoming review on Bird Yelp. But those birds that do drop in will find me eager to please. I guess at the end of the day – and the beginning and the middle – you might as well have some familiar faces around.
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