Feathered Friends

 Last week Arthur called upstairs to me to come down to see something. He was standing in the living room, our new binoculars in his hands trained out the window to a nearby lilac bush. There, in the tangle of branches near the top, was some kind of large bird. It was an owl, identified after consultation between the bird book and binoculars, as a barred owl. We've been keeping lists of birds around our feeders for the Great Backyard Bird Count,  but the owl has not shown himself within the proper time frame, which ends today.

Bird watching and winter feeding is a past-time enjoyed by both sides of our family through the generations.

 The birdfeeder you see above was built by Arthur's grandfather, J. Walter Metzger, known as Pa in this family. It's situated outside the kitchen window just above the sink and spruce trees and a maple tree provide adequate cover to attract a lovely winter assortment.

A suet Valentine from our Crandall Hill bird friends

My grandfather, W.D. Fish, often wrote about his backyard birds in his weekly newspaper column.

"Golly's birds gave him a cold shoulder for four straight mornings last week. He had begun to wonder, and then one morning came a male Cardinal. The brilliant bird took his time for a hearty breakfast of sunflower seeds. The next morning there was one Bluejay, and for a few seconds a Chickadee visited the feeder, just outside the window where Golly has his own breakfast.

Since then the usual variety has come to breakfast and all are very welcome regardless of the brilliance or somber appearance of their attire."

This feeder is at the other end of
the house, visible from the piano bench
in the music room

I particularly enjoyed reading of his plans for a Christmas feast.

"Just outside the kitchen window, reaching all the way across its 4-ft. length, was the table for special guests. The menu offered small grains, cracked corn, sunflower seeds, suet, bread loaded with generous gobs of peanut butter and raisins for a treat. Dozens of evergreen trees form a small forest back of the birds' table.

We bird lovers – all in absentia except Golly– admired the pair of chickadees, tiny, alert and nervous but hungry, dressed in their Christmas best. Others came, including the Blue Jay family of a half dozen members. The Jays were suspicious as always, greedy and hungry, but there was plenty for the whole hordes.

There may be some slight differences among the bird families but they are all just as nature made them, and Golly is neutral. They settled their arguments among themselves long before Golly was born.

A welcome awaits them all– Merry Christmas to all the birds."

The Christmas spirit had evaporated a few weeks later when he wrote:

"The Blue Jays that hide out in the evergreen trees in the rear of Golly's domicile, are keen and alert rascals. At times they provoke this scribe."

And the next Christmas came this:

"Golly suggested last week that the Blue Jays go away top of Dutch Hill and play Ken Barrie for free board.

Of course, Golly expected a comeback from the Scot but he did not expect poetry. But that's the way it is. Ken busted into a session with the muses with the following result.

Golly went out the other day,
To fill his bird feeder trays.
He thought he would find his Chickadees,
Instead he found only Jays.

Get out of here you greedy bums,
Get out and do not tarry
Beat it up on Dutch Hill
And feed off a Scot, Ken Barrie."

In an instant they were off,
A stream straight, long and steady,
If dear old Bill had only known,
Ken has hundreds here already.

Now it's Christmas season, Bill,
Have not a thing to fear.
I have a little old stale bread,
And I will feed them while they are here.

But when Christmas days are over,
and money I will lack,
So, I will cut down on the feed,
and dear old Bill will have them back,

– Sandy MacClaus