Feeding My Family

"I still think that one of the pleasantest of all emotions is to know that I,

I with my brain and my hands, have nourished my beloved few,

that I have concocted a stew or a story, a rarity or a plain dish,

to sustain them truly against the hungers of the world."

-- M.F.K. Fisher

Robin with berries 4-14-14

"There is no spectacle on earth more appealing than that

of a beautiful woman in the act of cooking dinner

for someone she loves."

-- Thomas Wolfe

A Positive Outlook

"What's meant to be will always find a way."

-- Trisha Yearwood, "She's In Love With the Boy"

Lego mini figure birdwatcher 3-25-14

"All times are beautiful for those who maintain joy within them."

-- Rosalia de Castro

Over the weekend my boys put up two beautiful, brand new, squirrel-proof bird feeders for me, right outside my kitchen window.

Last Spring we had to have all of our backyard trees cut down due to some lawn chemical mishap that was killing them. It made me so sad. Our property was lined all the way around with tall pines that were home to countless birds that delighted me year after year. I was particularly upset about losing the crabapple tree that held the house occupied by a perennial pair of very horny finches who did the nasty on the perch every morning while I watched and drank coffee. (I think they liked an audience. Freaks.)

Anyway, the new feeders are hanging on one of those tall posts with the hooks on either side. Both of them are brimming full -- one with tiny black thistle seeds for the real little guys like nuthatches and chickadees, the other with sunflower-rich wild bird seed for the bigger guys like cardinals and robins. There's even a big fat suet cake to tempt the woodpeckers.

They put the feeders up on Saturday while I imagined how I'd write about the flocks of lovely winged things that frequented them -- how I'd wax lyrical about the beauty of feathers and colors and flight and other bird business -- how I'd record here the parade of familiar and unusual species stopping to rest outside my window during their long migratory journeys north.

I have been watching my new feeders for four days.

As of this morning, exactly zero birds have flown in for the free grub.

The seed is undisturbed. There's no telltale bird shit on the perches, no feathers on the ground. Even the squirrels are snubbing me. I figured at least the squirrels would have the decency to pull off some Mission Impossible stunts trying to break in to these supposedly them-proof contraptions.

They haven't.

I keep calling out "Hey birds! Come and get it! Free bird seed! No waiting! Step right up, you're next, no waiting! Open 24 hours! You'll love our exclusive, birds-only dining experience! If I was a bird I'd eat here!"

Stuff like that.

So far it's not working.

I was getting a little disappointed because these new feeders were going to be my "good thing." How can they be a good thing if they don't work?

Well, the thing about bird watching is the satisfaction of the payoff that comes after the wait. It's about looking up, and out, remaining patient knowing that in time the birds will come. Before long there'll be plenty of them knocking seeds all over the ground and shitting all over everything. Squirrels will be swinging from the feeders, very likely knocking them right off the pole. Once one of them Tweets about the new restaurant in town, they'll all want to try it.

Also, the feeders are beautiful and it was so much fun watching my son and my husband working together to put them up.

So I'll stay positive. I'll keep looking. I'll keep watching and hoping.

If we built it, they will come.

And when they do, they'll be hungry. So it's a good thing there is plenty of free food to go around.

A Starling in a Pear Tree

" ... even the smallest of the starlings' concerns grew in importance 

until it seemed equal to the worries of kings."

-- Christopher Paolini, Inheritance

Starling in flowering pear tree 1-10-14

"Man generally does not know enough about the cycle of life 

to mess with the biological diversity of a region without causing irreparable damage, 

the starling is an excellent case in point."

-- Nature Ali

When the cold  snap finally broke, Mother Nature released the starlings, and our front yard trees were full of them.

Starlings are not a good thing.

Starlings are nuisance birds. 

People hate starlings. 

There are entire how-to websites dedicated to eradicating as many starlings as possible. Starlings destroy crops, ruin vineyards, foul animal feed and spread diseases to livestock and other birds. They fly into jet engines and cause airplane crashes which kill people. They nest wherever they damn well please, they're noisy, they shit everywhere. They dominate other bird species. They are called "intelligent killers," the "avian menace," "ugly birds" and "vermin" whose population is growing unabated. 

There are hordes of starlings because some d-bag brought a few nesting pair to North America from Europe in 1880. 

Dipshit.

The experts say winter is the best time to rub out the starlings because that's when their populations are weakest, and it's before the spring nesting season when they git bizzy and multiply. Anything goes: traps, bb guns and other firearms, tainted bait, strangulation with your bare hands, biting off their heads. Whatever it takes to kill the little bastards.

I can think about cold-blooded murder another day. 

On this day, after a stretch of bitter cold that paralyzed the bare, frozen landscape and sent all the creatures running for cover, it was nice to see some signs of life, even if it was a bunch of goddamn starlings.  

I shot this guy with my camera from my son's bedroom window. According to the experts, I should have blown it's ugly head off. But I thought he looked pretty and peaceful perched in the flowering pear tree. So I didn't take his life. I took his picture. Which, I'll bet if you asked the starling, was a good thing.

Everybody is beautiful sometimes. 

Even goddamn fucking starlings.