The Impropriety of Birds

Remember I said in an earlier post that birds won't come near the feeders? Now they're eating me out of house and home. If I fill all three feeders, the seed is gone in a day. This is ridiculous, or as the princess says, "ri-dick-oo-lous." If they keep eating at this rate, I'm not sure if we can afford to feed the birds.

The fact of the matter is, what's really annoying me is that they're starting to adopt a lazy and unappreciative attitude. Why should they work hard to catch worms if I'm constantly feeding them? I think I've spoiled yet another group of pets. Did I mention how they behave on the feeders? So far, I've tolerated uncensored chirping, public defecation, and bird brawls at all hours, while the children are watching at the windows.

The impropriety of New York birds is unreal, but it certainly makes watching them interesting. I think it's time to impart a little good, old-fashioned Victorian justice and suffering on these wild beasts.

I consider letting Hell Hound hunt and catch them in the yard ... Then I have a better idea. In the spirit of optimism, I give them one last opportunity to redeem their little characters. I post a sign on one of the feeders. Now, we'll see if the gluttony ends.

Our House: Apparently, Not For the Birds

This weekend I go on a birdfeeder kick; I set up three around my yard near house windows. I fill them with bird food that I think looks pretty tasty, (if you're a bird). Then I go inside and wait. Hours go by. They won't eat.

I think long and hard about this situation and can not figure out what I'm doing wrong. Birds come near the feeders, but they won't try them. Maybe they are eating so many bugs right now that they are too full to go to the feeders. I share this idea with my husband, whom I affectionately call Milk Man. He disagrees.

He jokes at my expense. "Maybe they heard you cooked the meal for them." Sitting on the porch, ignoring him, I stare at a finch on the front lawn. I try to imagine myself in the bird's shoes. Yes, Reader, I do know birds don't wear shoes, but you get my point. Anyway, that's when I realize that my house is just too loud. In fact, if I had wings and a beak, I'd be scared to death of our family. The children run around like looney birds, and Hell Hound once swallowed a pigeon whole.

It's a good guess that birds will never go near the feeders. I decide to empty all of them and pour the seed into a frying pan. Milk Man stops me at the kitchen door. "What are you doing now?"

I hand him the pan and grab my most retro-styled apron from a hook on the wall. "Why, I'm making you dinner, of course, dear," I declare, enthusiastically.

News FLASH! Animals Flock to Christie Yard Possibly Searching for an Ark

Did you really think I'd give up on bird watching that easily? After my little dinner joke, which prompts screams of horror from Big Brother, and the scolding: "Mommy, Don't be RI-DICK-OO-LUS!" from the princess, I decide not to teach Milk Man a lesson. I cook something other than birdseed for dinner, choosing a recipe from my treasured Campbell's Soup cookbook. Later that evening, I refill the feeders.
(A FEW DAYS LATER...)

Sometimes, in order to to feel more calm and centered, I sit at the kitchen table and say a Rosary. Today, the princess joins me. She has her own colorful wooden beads that were a gift from grandmama M. During the prayer I get up to pull baby brother out from a tangle of curtains. There in the window perched on one of my new feeders is a beautiful male finch. He's looking directly at me, chirping loudly. Meanwhile, I hear thunder, and strangely, the sun is shining.

I inch closer to the window and peer out. Down on the grass below the feeder is a big frog. I grab my camera and try to get a picture. Then I go outside to safely relocate the frog before Hell Hound finds it. I hold him carefully and bring him to the back of the yard near the old cemetery. He jumps safely through the chain link fence. Walking back to the house, I spot a large Monarch butterfly. In the clouds ahead, I see breaks of sun light and lightening at the same time. Milk Man calls me from work with a weather report. "What's the weather like by you? It's raining buckets here. I bet you're going to get this storm soon."

Now, if I see a swarm of locusts and possibly, a giraffe, then I'll know for sure that God is trying to tell me something.