Yesterday’s was the 85th birthday of famous birder Phoebe Snetsinger. I know this thanks to yesterday’s Google Doodle. I suppose, then, my timing is apt to have taken up armchair birding as a new hobby. Yes, this makes me firmly middle aged.
I remember about ten years ago, a manager at work instructed me to learn a bit about bird watching (in my free time, of course) so perhaps I could talk to one of our donors about it, thus endearing myself to her.
UGH. WHO CARES. Nothing sounded more boring. “Oh yes, that tiny one goes “meepmeepmeep” while this one is a solid “kawKAW”, so wonderful.” SAID NO ONE EVER.
But since I got a house with a nice little tree on the corner, things have changed. I have hung a bird feeder in the tree and have a newly purchased bird bath close by. It’s a perfect viewing spot. It’s not at all the boring activity I assumed it would be.
Visiting birds come by in droves. All kinds of birds. Lots of tiny finchy birds, sure, but I have grackles, cardinals, mourning doves… A bluejay just showed up but he might have been drunk. I saw a flash of blue before THUNKFLAPFLAPFLAPTHUNK.
It’s nice to do while I’m devouring a book. The chirps aren’t distracting from my reading and I can just look up and see who’s come by to get a bite to eat.
There’s actually not enough room on the bird feeder, so many birds have just taken to hanging out on the ground below it, snacking on any cast-offs. Today I decided to make a little pile of food there. Here’s a photo:
I’ve been trying to figure out why I’ve enjoyed it so much. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a pet right now. Maybe it’s because it’s totally up to chance as to what kind of bird comes by. Maybe it’s because I really want to be best friends with a crow. (Seriously, they’re really smart and cool and awesome.) But I am enjoying this. Even if my squirrels are trying to use the bird bath as a swimming pool.