I gave my husband a bird feeder for his birthday. We've never had a bird feeder before; we live in the deep south, and I know that birds have plenty to eat year-round down here, so I've never felt a humanitarian urge to feed them. But Michael loves animals and he's always enjoyed watching their behavior, and since we've retired from full-time jobs, we're learning how to just sit and revel in the joy of living. We like to go to the front porch with a book or the newspaper, knowing we'll get distracted from reading by all the little critters out in the yard. So I thought a bird feeder would be just the perfect gift.
I didn't have great expectations for this feeder. It's rather small, and my sister had warned me that it might take a while for the birds to "discover" it. She'd had that experience with her feeder; in fact, she felt a little rejected by her birds until her husband, a man wise in the ways of wild animals, explained that somehow the word would get out amongst the feathered population that goodies were to be had for the taking at a new location nestled right over the head of her garden angel. So I figured that patience would be required.
The helpful young woman at Wild Birds Unlimited got me all set up with a sturdy feeder and lots of spicy bird seed and suet that she assured me would NOT attract squirrels. For some reason, I didn't want a feeder that proclaimed itself "squirrel-proof." Something about those contraptions was off-putting: they were just a bit too high tech for our modest yard. And I didn't believe they were squirrel-proof, anyway. I've had too much experience with the intelligence of squirrels (high) and the way they can sniff out anything edible (uncanny).
So now the bird feeder hangs from the little dogwood in the side yard, far enough away from the porch so we can watch without being intrusive. And sure enough, my sister was right: the word is out. At first we had a few fly-bys. It was almost as if the older birds (mostly cardinals, both male and female) were checking it out for the young ones. Now, after the feeder has been there for two months, we almost can't keep up with the demand.
How, I wonder, do the birds come to this life-or-death decision? After all, they are perching on a foreign object eating food from an unknown source - and inviting all their friends and relatives to join them. There must be communication at a level we can't even imagine. Of course they have remarkable eyesight, a heightened sense of smell and split-second reflexes - but still. For a tiny bird, every moment must have its own dangers. Yet they seem to love this feeder.
I'm also struck by how much joy we've taken from this whole experience. As I tiptoe into this third thirty of my life, I vow to stretch every minute into its full 60 seconds of time. What a wonderful gift an uninterrupted moment can be! And I guess I've realized that these birds have been living in my yard for all these years, and by the greatest of good luck I've finally figured that out.
