You all know how much I love my feathered friends. I might be disinclined to slap on my boots and bundle up to shovel snow – but I’ll do it to fill the feeders for my buds. And now, what do I discover to my delight? As I increase the variety of visitors to my neck of the woods (or plot of feeders, as it were), I just might receive the equivalent of a bird bonus in my emotional bank account!
Who knew?
And here I thought it was all because I’m just a softy for Mother Earth and all her creatures. But no. It turns out that I’ve learned from this article that the results of a study determined that if we’re exposed to 14 different species of birds on a regular basis, we experience the satisfaction and happiness that an extra $150/month in our bank account would bring us.
What say you, Chickadee? – Photo: L. Weikel
A Puzzle
I have to admit, the precision with which the amount of happiness assessed – in dollar figures, no less, when it appeared to be a British study – poses a bit of a puzzle to me. And I have to say, the addition of $150/month in my bank account might bring me a cascade of happiness raining down upon my head, but I doubt it would have as big an impact upon the hedge fund manager down the road.
Just a thought.
But would that mean that the hedge fund manager would need 140 different species to show up at her feeder to feel the same feels engendered by visits from our avian brothers and sisters that I might get from 14? Does it mean that hedge fund managers are hopelessly destined to never feeling as much joy from birding as I might be?
One might think being a HEDGE fund manager might attract enough nesting birds to…
Oh man, you can tell I’m digging deep for tonight’s post.
But the link is real! And quite honestly, I do believe the more birds that visit our lives each and every day, the happier we are. And I honestly and sincerely can’t put a dollar figure on the joy my birds bring me.
My feathered friends were in fine fettle today. Comings, goings, dodging of snowball-sized snowflakes. There was even a chickadee photo-bomb thrown into the mix. Life doesn’t get much better than having access to such color and sassiness, puffery and strategy.
We’ve formed a mutual admiration club that only seems to improve with time. I ensure their supply of sunflower seeds is topped off and never in danger of depletion and they provide a non-stop tutorial in avian culinary predilections and territorial posturing.
It just so happened I received an article about those very habits in my inbox this morning, which made my observations all the more enlightening.
Patience – Photo: L. Weikel
A Mere Sampling
It should be noted that the photos in tonight’s post are from only one of my feeders. The truth is, there’s an entire cadre of winged ones that don’t even deign to visit this particular feeder, probably because it’s so close to the house. As a result, these photos are but a mere sampling of the visitors we entertain.
The truth is, these spoiled creatures have access to seven other feeders on another side of our house. I just happen to feature photos mostly from this feeder because they’re the easiest for me to take. Indeed, sometimes it’s hard for me to get anything accomplished when they’re flitting and kibitzing with each other right outside my window.
And then there’s the occasional Boeing 747 that lands on the feeder, scattering all the little ones from hither to yon. I’m talking the red shouldered woodpeckers and blue jays, mostly. While these beasts were around today and sending everyone away in an occasional frenzy, they seemed a bit camera shy.
Don’t talk with your mouth full – Photo: L. Weikel
The Others
After I topped off the seven ‘other’ feeders, including the peanut coil, I stood very quietly on the porch and just observed. It did not take a full sixty seconds before everybody got the word that the goods had been delivered. A free-for-all was here for the taking.
Many of the birds that grace our land enjoy nibbling their kibble directly from the ground. Cardinals tend to be ground feeders (although they obviously won’t hesitate to imbibe from a feeder if need be), as do juncos. I didn’t realize that until today, when as I stood stock still on the porch to see who would show up if they thought I’d retreated inside, I saw at least fourteen juncos show up and do a little dance under the peanut coil.
I’m pretty sure they were more interested in the sunflower seeds I’d scattered there than the peanuts, but you never know. I’m always surprised by the little guys that try to wedge a peanut twice as big as their head out of the coil. I have to wonder: is that a ‘meal for the day?’
Crowd at the bar – Photo: L. Weikel
Sacrifice
I made the conscious choice to keep my phone (and hence my camera) in my pocket as I stood in observation mode on the porch. It was a sacrifice, but I didn’t want any movement of mine to scatter them. I wanted to see if I could get them to feel safe enough to eat freely in my presence. At one point, my quick count of all those prancing on top of the snow, clinging to the feeders themselves, and kibitzing from the overhanging branches of the maples came to at least 68.
I have to admit, it was a precious few minutes early this afternoon when I was graced with their trust. I’d decided to refill the feeders at that moment because the snowball-sized snowflakes that had pelted the area in a barrage of white fluff (it got deep fast) had subsided. The Weather Channel app on my phone was remarkably accurate this storm – and true to their prediction, I had a window in which to refill the feeders.
As I stood there watching and listening to the house and goldfinches, chickadees, juncos, cardinals, sparrows, woodpeckers, blue jays, wrens, and nuthatches call to each other, the snowstorm resumed. The flakes were no longer big enough to build a fort with singlehandedly, but they were falling so thickly and furiously, my eyelashes were coated and I could swear the birds were ducking.
This was a wonderfully beautiful, long-lasting snowstorm that I was delighted to enjoy with the birds that share our land and home with us.
Cletus and Spartacus, on the other hand, the ones who usually are first out the door? That was not on their agenda today.
