A mystery of Springtime #phenology

Late yesterday afternoon, we made up some fresh sugar water nectar and filled the oriole feeder, which has also been feeding hummingbirds and the odd woodpecker. We dumped the scraps from the trash feeder and refilled that with sunflower seeds. The grape feeder, which has been attracting orioles and an occasional rose-breasted grosbeak, got washed and refilled with concord grape jelly. Finally, we topped off the large perched sunflower tube feeder. This morning, the tube feeder was the only thing left on the deck that had any contents remaining. All the grape jelly, about 2/3 or a gallon of sunflower seeds and 16 oz of nectar--all gone. Empty feeders just hanging there.

female Baltimore oriole at feeder

Photo by J. Harrington

We don't believe that we had an overnight visit from huge flocks of migrants that ate from the tray, the grape jelly and drank the nectar while leaving the sunflower tube feeder along. Might we have had a visit from a raccoon? We've watched the squirrels, and they could have emptied the tray feeder but it's improbable they emptied the nectar feeder or the grape jelly. If a bear had again climbed onto the deck, we would have expected to see more destruction. There's none, really, other than the missing bird foods. We suppose we could consider adding a "trail cam" focused on the deck. That tactic had previously been an option for the front feeders, both of which were in about the same condition as they were when we went to bed last night.

Color us befuddled. Time to go refill this feeders. We'll try harder to remember to bring them in tonight.

could it have been a turkey at the feeders?

Photo by J. Harrington

As we refilled the feeders we discovered more evidence, purely circumstantial, of course. The base of the nectar feeder, which had been washed when we refilled it yesterday, was covered with indistinct, grubby, muddy paw prints. The grape feeder perches, also washed yesterday, were sticky. We're thinking more and more we got a visit from a raccoon or, maybe, a possum. Unless, of course, a turkey returned, flew back onto the railing and helped herself, leaving behind sticky footprints??

Possum Crossing

Nikki Giovanni, 1943

Backing out the driveway
the car lights cast an eerie glow
in the morning fog centering
on movement in the rain slick street

Hitting brakes I anticipate a squirrel or a cat or sometimes
a little raccoon
I once braked for a blind little mole who try though he did
could not escape the cat toying with his life
Mother-to-be possum occasionally lopes home . . . being
naturally . . . slow her condition makes her even more ginger

We need a sign POSSUM CROSSING to warn coffee-gurgling neighbors:
we share the streets with more than trucks and vans and
railroad crossings

All birds being the living kin of dinosaurs
think themselves invincible and pay no heed
to the rolling wheels while they dine
on an unlucky rabbit

I hit brakes for the flutter of the lights hoping it’s not a deer
or a skunk or a groundhog
coffee splashes over the cup which I quickly put away from me
and into the empty passenger seat
I look . . .
relieved and exasperated ...
to discover I have just missed a big wet leaf
struggling . . . to lift itself into the wind
and live

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