Feeding the Birds

     One of the reasons I bought a home so far out in the country was because I wanted to revive my life-long interest--dare I say passion--for bird watching.  I was sure that there would be a host of birds and a good number of different varieties as well out here in the boondocks.  And such proved to be the case.  Yep, I got something right.  It has been a delight. From the taken for granted brilliance of the cardinals, to the changing beauty of the goldfinch, to the stunning contrast of the red and black of the rose-breasted grosbeak and even to the beauty of the "drab" sparrow I have enjoyed their antics and their beauty all around my acres.  Do I resent the sparrows?  Not at all.  I'm reminded of the poet who threw out some food in hopes of attracting beautiful birds only to have a flock of sparrows swoop in and eat it all.  Her frustration turned to joy when she recognized that the sparrows came "with such delight, never doubting their welcome."  And since "God's eye is on the sparrow," why not fill your yard with them? =)  Why not welcome them all?
     I know.   They don't need me to survive.  They've been doing quite well for generations without the help of man.  I do it then, admittedly, for my own selfish pleasure.  I enjoy their company.  And they don't mind the free lunch.  But, of course, the last two winters I was in South Carolina taking care of my mom, so that they were--like it or not--on their own.  When I brought Mom up to my place for last year's spring and summer, I set up a feeding station right in front of her windows so she could enjoy them each day along with me, the neighbor's cat, and an occasional "visiting" hawk.  Mom and Pop always loved feeding the birds as well.  Perhaps that's where I caught the obsession.
     This spring, however, when I bought Mom up to Ohio to stay with me until her homegoing, various conditions and restraints have caused me to give up my place in the food chain for the near present--reluctantly, and dare I say, with some sorrow.  The birds, of course, have not abandoned the property.  After all, they and their descendants have made this place home long before I got here.  They are their family trees.  But they have let me know of their dissatisfaction.  When I am out wandering the acres, they will fly to the bird feeders and look shocked that I have all those feeders up with nothing in them.  What could I possibly be thinking?  Even the hawk stops by to check things out.  The chickadees curse me as only a chickadee can.  The woodpeckers and nuthatches with their monosyllabic calls are no doubt screeching "Benedict" or some other traitorous epithet when I walk by.  The juncos and cardinals actually sit under my car in the midst of the snowfalls no doubt to point out to me that it's indeed cold and not easy doing things the old-fashioned way.  "Food in the feeders would be nice.  Get with it stupid human."  Alas.
     Hopefully, some day, I can resume my duties and fulfill my responsibilities.  Earn my right to live on their acres so to speak.  Until then I must walk in the snow and wind and endure the verbal abuse and object lessons.  At least, they have not yet resorted to the Alfred Hitchcock course of action!