“Here’s How You Eat a Peanut” – Photo: L. Weikel

Every Year It’s Different                                                    

I’ve waxed rhapsodic over my porch in other posts. I’ve also shared (ad nauseum?) my love of my birdfeeders and the many avian visitors I’m lucky enough to have a front row seat to enjoy as I sit writing on my porch.

Truth be told, especially now that Spartacus is not as nimble as he used to be, and Sheila’s practically blind, other creatures find themselves emboldened to partake of the bird seed (and peanuts!) without fear of being molested. That’s not to say that every once in a while Spartacus doesn’t still give the chasethe ol’ college try. But he’s just not the threat he used to be.

Every year it seems there’s a different type of bird that has a starring role in performances at our feeders. It’s been fascinating to notice over time what ‘energy’ predominates at the feeders any given year.

All Things Blue Jay

One year we had blue jays make a nest in one of the hanging planters directly outside our kitchen door (on our porch, of course). That was a very cool experience. All three of our sons were still living at home when the blue jays roosted. We all had a chance to witness the entire process, from nest building to laying the eggs, to how they would take turns sitting on the nest, to the hatching and growth of the chicks. Things got hairy when the chicks started to fledge. The parents got a bit testy with us then and would whack us with their wings if we walked out the kitchen door too abruptly, thus spooking them.

One day, one of the fledges got ahead of himself and fell out of the nest. We were pretty sure he hit his head because he seemed a bit groggy. I picked him up and put him back in the nest. The parental units didn’t mind. But we always swore we could tell which one was the fledge who fell out. He was the one who always looked a bit cockeyed. He was the jay whose crown feathers seemed to be puffed up and a bit askew, and he’d look at us and tilt his head questioningly.

We affectionately called him “Franken-Jay.” He would show up at our feeders occasionally – and we could always tell it was him by the way he would look at us in that particular way, with his feathers all in disarray.

Beyond Just Jays

We’ve had years when there were entire flocks of cardinals. I have some great photos from ten or so years ago when there would be 15-16 or more fledgling cardinals all hanging out together on the grass and dirt underneath the feeders. I called them my Teenage Mutant Ninja Cardinals because their feathers were so patchy and mottled. They really looked unkempt and discombobulated and, well, teenaged.

Another year we had a bazillion goldfinches. Yet another year there were more house finches than anyone should be permitted to feed at the same time in the wild.

Last year it was wrens. Oh my goodness, the voice and song of the wrens is incredibly distinct and they would just chatter and sing relentlessly. They were a delight.

Fish Crow Extravaganza

This year, it’s the fish crows. (And yes, fish crows are distinct from regular crows, which I only discovered this spring.) They are SO AWESOME. We have a family that nested right across the road from our house. (I need to see – I may have written about them previously.)

Sitting out on the porch today for the first time in several days, I was privy to some absolutely delightful fish crow family dynamics. The babies are definitely fledges. Mom and Dad are teaching them all sorts of flight tricks and how to try to navigate the peanut coil that is a big addition to our creature offerings this year.

Oh, do those babies squawk. My photos do not do my guys justice. I’m trying to be as unobtrusive as I can, so I’ve been trying to take photos of them without getting any closer than I am normally. I just sit on the glider where I usually reside and try to capture their raucous behavior.

I’m going to have to try harder tomorrow. I really want to share them with you!

(T-855)