Tuesday, February 12, 2019

Feeding "birds" in Winter

Goldfinches, still Winter-drab, squabble at the feeders, every so often exploding shrapnel-like into the air. But, do pigeons (squab) finchle as they peck at breadcrumbs in a park or beans at a silo? Why not turn the verb about?

goldfinches etc. at Winter feeders
goldfinches etc. at Winter feeders
Photo by J. Harrington

Woodpeckers, pileated, red-bellied, hairy and downy (in descending order of size, but not appearance at the feeders) pound on slabs of frozen suet and, occasionally, one or another of the smaller species will grab a sunflower seed.

downy woodpecker feeding on suet
downy woodpecker feeding on suet
Photo by J. Harrington

Chickadees briefly forego their "fee-bee" calls to land, grab and fly away with a sunflower seed. Several white-breasted nuthatches ("whi, whi, whi....") also appear, take a seed, and fly away. Cardinals, most notably a male showing bright red against white snow, have begun "what-cheer, cheer" Spring songs from near the tops of snow-covered trees. Then a male, sometimes accompanied by a female, will be seen feeding on the ground or at the copper feeder which has a tray on the bottom. The same feeder favored by local red and gray squirrels. (The whitetail deer prefer the tube feeder in front of the house.)

red squirrel approaching heated birdbath
red squirrel approaching heated birdbath
Photo by J. Harrington

Some days we've counted as many as half-a-dozen red squirrels concurrently twitching their way across the snow surrounding the front feeder, the one nearest a wood lot of trees that provide a safety factor. Squirrels, aided and abetted by blue jays, are successfully clearing several inches of freshly fallen snow, accumulated on top of a number of branches. Smaller birds like chickadees and nuthatches then clear what's left so the perches soon become snow-free. Other branches remain untouched. We wonder why.

Much of this posting has been written to establish that, with more and more bird species starting their Spring songs, and squirrels starting to chase each other around, we are not alone in looking forward to the transition from Winter to Spring. How do we know that the bird songs are actually mating calls and not complaints about the harshness of the season?

On the First Day She Made Birds



He asked me       if I had a choice
what kind of bird
would I choose to be.
I know what he thought I’d say
since he tried to        end
my sentences half the time
anyway. Something exotic
he thought. He thought
maybe macaw.
That would fit
all loudmouthed
and primary colored
he would think.
(He thinks too much
I always thought.)
But really       at heart
I’m more
don’t laugh now
     an L B J
          little brown job
except               except
I’m not the
flit        from
branch
to        branch        type
such a waste
of energy all that
wing flap
and scritch scritch scratch.
Really now
can you see me
seed pod clamped
between my beak
like some landowner,
Havana cigar
clenched
between his teeth?
No         I think         not
I think
green heron.
You ask why?
Personality
mainly.
That hunched look
wings tucked to neck
waiting        waiting
in the sun
on a wide slab of rock
alongside a slow river
like some old man
up from a bad night’s dream
where he’s seen his coffin
and you say to him
Have a nice day
and he says        Make me.
Oh          you want looks
I’ll give you
looks:
long olive green feathers
a trace of
iridescence
I could stand
going out       iridescent
chestnut sides and head
a black crown
yes        a crown
something regal
to flash when you get
too close
dark bill         bright
yellow legs
and that creamy streak
down my throat and pecs
good
        not great
but good         pecs
just enough for a quick
hop to the next.
The best part
no sexual dimorphism
male         female
both alike
endless possibilities.


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Please be kind to each other while you can.

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