Who shall feed them?

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The black grackle hangs tipsily from the near empty bird feeder, while hungry house finches, sparrows, and cardinals look on.  A gold finch hangs on to the toe of the thistle sock, dangling in the rain and wind.  We have so many feeders at The Apple Tree Restaurant outside our front window and they are nearly empty.

I became a “bird person” many years ago after our cat, Sammy, stopped going out for his daily nibble of grass and his dose of vitamin D lying on the hot concrete of our neighbor’s stoop.  Before that, I didn’t want to invite birds to our yard where a predator, as sweet as he was, might end their lives, and Sammy had his hunting moments, which broke my heart.

It began with one simple, artsy ceramic bird feeder, “Oh, so cute!” I had exclaimed to my husband who at the time was having none of it.  “Don’t drag me into your psychosis…” he said, and often says when I am out to feed the world, in this case one feathered friend at a time.

We found our fourth feeder at the flea market that prevents the squirrels from eating from it.  We have a huge one with chain link siding that can’t be damaged by the hungry squirrels so they eat from that.  Squirrels are hungry too, you know.

I hate the sight of empty feeders, it’s like heading to your favorite restaurant to find they have closed for the season, or for construction, whatever.  I imagine the birds right now, going, WHAT?  Where is the food?  I have babies to feed!

I mostly never fill the feeders anymore since hubby bought into my “psychosis” and loves and feels as responsible for the birds even more than I.  Sucker.

Lest I be late for work, I must put on my rain coat and run out to feed the hungry now.  I can hear the babies calling from their nests, and can only imagine the mommies’ and daddies’ distress.  The babies must be fed.

 

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