Hey, everyone. It is Sunday morning in the States. It is 60 degrees and overcast, with rain yesterday and last night plus the threat of more to come. The robins don't seem to care. There are dozens of them in some of my trees, flitting through the bushes and... just now flying headlong into my study's window. Ha, ha. I have seen birds literally break their necks like that. It brings to mind the bizarre Hitchcock movie called The Birds, in which our fine feathered friends get tired of human-related problems and start attacking people.
Nothing like that with these birds. They are mild and well-behaved, other than their odd toilet habits. This morning being so unseasonably warm, I carried my coffee to the front porch and watched ...life happening.
I have several Bradford Pears in the front yard. They are the trees that have become popular for their white blooms in the spring. Their pears stay tiny and unsuitable for human consumption, but birds think they are exquisite. I suppose that these robins may be traveling south for the winter, though I am no expert on the migratory habits of birds. They are just stopping for a fruit breakfast at the green retreat. (By the way, you'll notice the 'volunteers' in the picture above. The Bradfords have roots that like to run atop the ground. Sometimes these roots will sprout new trees that grow right into the past foliage.)
Carley and I fed birds for years. I forget all the reasons we quit doing so. They tend to crap in unwonted places, for one thing. Then cats seemed to see the bird feeder as a prime hunting ground, which made me feel that I was contributing to their trap. Accessory to cat violence, or something.
Talking about the Bradfords, these trees keep their leaves so late in the winter that they have become a favorite of mine. Here it is in mid November and they still offer a nice burgundy leaf color. They are full and pretty and make a good screening foliage. It will probably be sometime in December before all their leaves are gone. Reminds me of an old song by the Mamas and the Papas. All the leaves are gone, and the sky is grey...
I wonder if the robins didn't stop as much for the scenery as well as just the food? I don't have a good feel for an animal's appreciation of beauty. I would like to think that they enjoy nature since they are such a charming part of it all. Except for the poop thing. Although that is just nature as well.
It's funny. As I sit a while and just watch, the birds get ever closer to my chair. I am sitting here in my pajama bottoms and a tee-shirt, barefoot, enjoying a hot, tasty cup of coffee. They start to think, "Hey, that guy is okay, after all. We can continue to eat and preen and show off our tiny, dull-orange bellies. Then we can run a few hurried steps on the ground. Then pose, then run again. Because that is what we do, at the author's green retreat."
Nothing like that with these birds. They are mild and well-behaved, other than their odd toilet habits. This morning being so unseasonably warm, I carried my coffee to the front porch and watched ...life happening.
I have several Bradford Pears in the front yard. They are the trees that have become popular for their white blooms in the spring. Their pears stay tiny and unsuitable for human consumption, but birds think they are exquisite. I suppose that these robins may be traveling south for the winter, though I am no expert on the migratory habits of birds. They are just stopping for a fruit breakfast at the green retreat. (By the way, you'll notice the 'volunteers' in the picture above. The Bradfords have roots that like to run atop the ground. Sometimes these roots will sprout new trees that grow right into the past foliage.)
Carley and I fed birds for years. I forget all the reasons we quit doing so. They tend to crap in unwonted places, for one thing. Then cats seemed to see the bird feeder as a prime hunting ground, which made me feel that I was contributing to their trap. Accessory to cat violence, or something.
Talking about the Bradfords, these trees keep their leaves so late in the winter that they have become a favorite of mine. Here it is in mid November and they still offer a nice burgundy leaf color. They are full and pretty and make a good screening foliage. It will probably be sometime in December before all their leaves are gone. Reminds me of an old song by the Mamas and the Papas. All the leaves are gone, and the sky is grey...
I wonder if the robins didn't stop as much for the scenery as well as just the food? I don't have a good feel for an animal's appreciation of beauty. I would like to think that they enjoy nature since they are such a charming part of it all. Except for the poop thing. Although that is just nature as well.
It's funny. As I sit a while and just watch, the birds get ever closer to my chair. I am sitting here in my pajama bottoms and a tee-shirt, barefoot, enjoying a hot, tasty cup of coffee. They start to think, "Hey, that guy is okay, after all. We can continue to eat and preen and show off our tiny, dull-orange bellies. Then we can run a few hurried steps on the ground. Then pose, then run again. Because that is what we do, at the author's green retreat."
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