After two weeks of out of town class I finally have a day off. It is a weekday, so I will enjoy the first half of this day alone. No alarm clock, no roommate and no study material, a legitimate day off. I’m the last one out of the bed so the coffee has cooled and needs to be reheated before heading to the porch for a little bird watching. The birds woke up with the sun, and they are hard at it already. I am late.
I dust off the cushion in the rocking chair and sit my steaming coffee on the table beside it. The cat uses the chair every morning, so I have to ignore a nest of hair that won’t brush away and sit down. The birds momentarily scatter as I disrupt their morning routine. A grizzly with a cup of coffee; a mountain lion with no tail; a kid with a bb gun. I could be any of these and the birds take no chances. They watch me for a few minutes perched on the limbs of nearby trees before hunger and routine lures them back to the feeder.
The House finches are the first ones back. They come in waves of safety; strength in numbers that will allow only the most unlucky to be singled out. They fuss, peck each other, and enjoy the welfare that has allowed them to raise a family in my yard. Delighted that the trough is full, the teenagers compare eating skills. A tiny nuthatch swoops in between the crowd and stakes his claim. He grips the wire basket upside down and extracts a single sunflower seed with the precision of a surgeon. He quickly exits before the mob can react; the finches close ranks.
The show continues to play out as the different species arrive for their breakfast. The larger birds, making the smaller ones retreat momentarily to the woods line, seem to notice me more. Larger eyes I think. I move only to sip my coffee. The chickadee makes up for his lack of size with his constant chattering. I wonder if he is announcing his claim to the feeder or praising me for it’s content. He spends the day relocating as much of it as he can; hiding it for later use. Enjoying the warmth while planning for the cold; banking the proceeds.
The hummingbirds seem to notice nothing but each other. They dart like dragonflies while buzzing like bumblebees. Showing off their dazzling flying skills to their slower cousins who seem not to care. The cousins that use their wings as simply tools for the collection of food. Cousins that have never been out of the country. Locals embarrassed by the brilliant world travelers that enjoy meals from a private feeder. Guests.
A storm carrying an inch and a half of rain passed through last night making the morning air feel like a tropical cloud. A respite from the 100 degree heat that has been the norm of late; relief. An event that makes a declaration of the season; summer. A reminder to the chickadee that it is collection season. A note to the hummingbird that a long flight is eminent. A message I understand as well. That this day is simply a day that I have flown from the feeder to the limb of a near by tree. I will enjoy the rest for a short time until hunger and routine bring me back to the feeder.
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