wrens

Chickadee Photo-bomb – Day 813

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
What are you lookin’ at? – Photo: L. Weikel

Chickadee Photo-bomb

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.

It’s a snow day, Mommy – Photo: L. Weikel

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Feeding the Birds – Day 496

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Feeding the Birds – Photo: L. Weikel

Feeding the Birds

Some of you may remember my semi-flip out back in September when suddenly all the birds not only went silent but actually left the premises. It was a long 20 days or so before they finally started returning, much to my huge relief. It’s possible, I suppose, that they all just suddenly discovered plentiful seeds and other treats somewhere else. But the abruptness and totality of their departure – and the similar abruptness of their return – just seemed kind of weird.

I do intend to pay attention this fall, to see if they make it into an annual habit.

Looking For Normal

This past week felt like I was trapped in a time warp. Every day I had to make a concerted effort to steady and ground myself – almost as if I’d awakened in the midst of an ocean and had to regain my sea legs before I could walk into the next room. But it wasn’t a physical wavering. It was a psychological one – or perhaps even deeper; perhaps an existential one.

So many assumptions and fundamental beliefs I’ve held about our country and our ability to respond to any challenge – no matter how grave, how daunting, or how threatening – have been shattered this week. And the worst part about that? The worst part is knowing that it was completely avoidable. The worst part is knowing that our lack of preparation and ability to respond (responsibility) was facilitated by the deliberate obfuscation of those at the highest levels of our government.

And people are starting to get sick and die in numbers that grow exponentially, daily, as a result.

So? Having no real power to effect meaningful change until Election Day, I need to look for normal amidst the chaos. Looking for normal yesterday afternoon meant feeding my birds.

Everyday Joy

The temperature outside climbed to 78 degrees yesterday. Needing to ground myself and reconnect to what’s real and sustainable, I found myself sitting on my porch in the sunshine, reveling in birdsong. For a precious few minutes, I was able to wrap myself in a cocoon of delight as I listened to the robins and the fish crows trill and grok, respectively. I watched both two red shouldered woodpeckers and a downy cling to my front feeder and push around a chickadee, then heard but could not see-to-save-my-life the producer of the unmistakable, heavy-billed <<thwacking>> of a pileated just beyond the garage.

I watched goldfinches, house finches, sparrows and wrens flit and flutter amongst the shelter of the carcass of our Christmas tree, which we prop against one of the maples in our yard each year to give them additional cover from the sharp-shinned and red-tailed hawks that patrol the area. Nuthatches marched upside down on the maples and I even glimpsed either a blue bird or an indigo bunting before it disappeared into the thicket along our driveway.

My effort to reclaim normal consisted of the measured, meditative act of filling our birdfeeders and feeding the birds.

Pandemic Partners

I hope I’ll be able to keep my feeders filled over the coming months. The joy and sense of connection with All Life that birds give me is abundantly healing and centering. I recently came across this great article with excellent tips on how to make our yards welcoming, safe, and enticing to these wonderful creatures. It affirmed why Karl and I are so lucky to have so many feathered friends sharing this land we call home.

So many of the suggestions in this article are sound common sense, but they’re also little ways of changing our relationship with birds and Mother Earth that help bring us into balance with Her.

And ultimately, as we make our way through the devastation of this pandemic, coming back into balance with Mother Earth will be key. Celebrating and appreciating our birds can remind us of that.

Goldfinch – Photo: L. Weikel

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The Birds Are Returning – Day 345

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment

 

The Birds Are Returning

Today was the first day in well over a month that I’ve had reason to feel a glimmer of hope again.

As many of you know, I’ve been rather freaked out by the complete absence of birds – not only at our feeders and in our trees here at our home, but everywhere around here locally. Karl and I have been commenting on the eerie silence of the forests and fields as we’ve walked and walked and walked.

And no, I can’t really blame it on the guy in the photo, above, either. First of all, I took this particular photo outside of my office – so it’s not as if he flew home with me to snack on our songbirds. But I’m keenly aware that its kin live here and, in fact, use our yard and the open space between our feeders and our small barn as a runway dedicated to harvesting tender morsels of delight.

Wet Weather

Sheila, our 15 year old Boston Terrier, needs extra encouragement to lope off the porch to relieve herself when it’s raining out. If we don’t go out with her, it is amazing how this pup – who used to be extremely fastidious about being a ‘good girl’ – will now just obviously say, “Screw it,” and unceremoniously just start to pee on the porch. Even if it’s just misting!

But because of that, (and because of her recent ‘go rogue’ moments when she’s chosen to go on ‘walkabout‘), I tend to go out with her every time she goes to the door now. All of which to explain how I found myself standing on the porch this morning, paying attention to what was going on right in front of me.

First, I heard some crows. They were, in fact, just regular crows – not the ‘fish crows’ which were may favorites throughout the spring and summer. But there were a good three or four of them, which made me happy.

Then blue jays. Two. Standing near the peanut circle and daring me to shoo them away (which I would never do). Finally, a couple goldfinches, three chickadees – and I could hear at least one wren, maybe more, in the brush at the edges of the property line.

Paying Attention

Perhaps I simply became hyper aware of the birds taking a vacation this year. I still find it extremely odd that all of them decided to up and leave completely, all at once, with nary a goodbye note. I’ll be curious to see if a similar departure from their frequenting of the feeders takes place next year.

Since it was misting and rather miserable out, I found it impossible to get a good shot of any of the birds that ‘came back’ today. My apologies.

The energy or ‘feel’ of today was weird. But I wanted to celebrate the return of the birds because it feels significant.

I used the photo of the hawk that was looking at me with that stink-eye of an expression because I feel like that’s how Spirit is looking at me right now.

“Get moving. Stop your nonsense,” is what I’m hearing on the wind. And that’s what I feel this hawk is saying, too.

I must get myself to bed. I have lots to accomplish tomorrow. Maybe even snagging some photos of a couple returned birds!

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