Saturday Haiku: Birdwatching

 for every seed
sparrows take at the feeder
three fall to the ground

content to forage
a towhee finds on the ground
what sparrows have dropped

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Photos by Charles Kinnaird

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A Blessing from Nature

Pine Siskin (photo from All about Birds)

"You're goin' to heaven, man -- the way you feed these birds!" my neighbor told me as he was walking past our house one day. I was in the process of refilling some feeders with thistle seed and others with sunflower seed.  My response was, "As long as the birds come, I'm in heaven already!" We've had the usual finches, cardinals, titmice, and sparrows. Lately I've also spotted an indigo bunting and a rose-breasted grosbeak. I haven't had the camera out to catch the bunting or the grosbeak, beautiful though they are, but here are some older photos I've taken of goldfinches and a house finch:

A Moment of Special Visitation

I wrote last autumn about an unusual encounter with a phoebe while on a bird watching expedition. I had a similar blessed encounter in my own back yard last week. We had recently done some rearranging in our yard after taking down a couple of old Leyland cypress trees. There had been a birdbath near those trees that robins, doves and mockingbirds made frequent use of. With the trees gone, we moved the birdbath to the other end of the yard, near an oak (birds like having the protection of a tree nearby when visiting a birdbath). The new spot is also in the proximity of our birdfeeders. I discovered that in its new location we gained a new clientele: the finches and titmice are now visiting that birdbath.

As it happened on that special day, I was outside doing some yard work. While walking past the birdbath, I looked down to see a pine siskin (like the one pictured above) splashing about in the water. At first I was afraid the little bird was hurt since it was making no attempts to fly away when I approached. I stopped and waited to observe some more. The bird appeared to be fine. She (or was it a he?) would splash about, take a drink, splash some more then take another drink. With me standing there beside the birdbath, the little bird look me in the eye then looked straight ahead as if to say, "This is some fine water!" The siskin then hopped up on the edge of the birdbath. I held my finger out to see what he (or was it a she?) would do. The bird sat there calmly. I slowly moved my finger closer, pressing against her (or his) front feathers. Still, the bird sat content on the side of the birdbath. Turning about, the bird took another drink from the water then flew up to the holly bushes where the thistle feeders were.

Part of the Natural Order

There seems to be something in us that longs to make connection with the natural world. Usually we must be content with proximity, but on occasion, a heavenly visitor assures us that we, too, are part of this world of wonder.

Old birdbath, new location

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Things That Were Hidden in Life

I spent some time this week getting the yard in shape for winter. Last weekend I mowed the grass for the last time this season and raked leaves for the first time this season. Flower gardens were weeded, raked clean and mulched for the winter.  Hummingbird feeders were brought in and cleaned for storage; thistle seed and sunflower seed feeders were brought out and made ready for goldfinches, sparrows, cardinals, titmice and towhees’ winter provisions.  Flowering vines, now withered, were pulled off the lattice fence.  There are still some trees in pots that need to be mulched and winterized before the temperatures drop below freezing.  The land, even on a suburban lot, calls out the changing of the seasons. We who work the land must make things ready as we attempt to shape the horticultural life around us.

Sometimes when fall and winter arrive, we see things in the stillness that we missed during the lively summer. The oak tree in the backyard, for example, has dropped its leaves, revealing a squirrel’s nest and a bird’s nest that had eluded my notice when everything was green. I think I want to write a poem about “what was hidden in life.” I’ll have to sit with that idea for a while.  In the past, I’ve written poems inspired by spring, summer, fall and winter – some of which I’ve put on my blog.  Perhaps in the stillness of this dormant season, I’ll write about what was hidden in the life of spring and made known in the dead of winter.

At any rate, I like change of the seasons. The autumnal change is my favorite herald of things to come. I like the call to slow down and look inward. Firing up the furnace and bringing down coats and sweaters signals the turn in our efforts to find warmth within. The ever darkening nights that shorten our days cause us to treasure the light. When spring eventually arrives, I always resist at first. Perhaps it is my introverted nature that loves the inwardness of winter. Eventually, however, the season holds sway and I move outward to enjoy the days of spring. For now, I will enjoy the autumn air and look forward to the cool of winter. 

I’ll spend the season doing a bit more reflecting. We are entering the Advent season so it is naturally a time to watch, prepare and wait. 

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