Breakfast in the Bird Park

Some time deep in the middle of the night, after two days of fury, the wind finally stopped blowing. Just in time, I say. It was really making me crazy. I think it was the silence that woke me somewhere around five and, even though the blinds were closed, I could tell by the light in the room that the much anticipated snow had arrived at last.

This morning was like the old days in the Bird Park. The trees were stuffed with birds. Everyone came early and stayed and I made sure that they weren't disappointed. I served leftover pancakes and oatmeal along with the usual fare...peanuts, sunflower seeds, apples, kibbles and scratch.

Between bites, grackles compulsively scanned the skies. The starlings were fierce and reckless as usual. After the other magpies finished and left Seven, aka The 7 O'clock Magpie, hung out in the aspen digesting seconds waiting for thirds. Quail scratched in the snow for hidden tasties then stopped and did what they always do. Stood around. The pigeons showed up late as always but got right to work. They are the clean up detail.

Even Minerva dropped in for her share of the oatmeal. You might wonder how I know this particular crow is Minerva but why not Minerva?

After all, crows live for decades, they're smart and the Bird Park is The Place to be on a day like this so why wouldn't she come? Plus she's a founding member and enjoys her seniority status.

And with this storm the birds finally accepted the "new" tree as their new perch. They were really slow adapting to the change after Dick's widow cut down his, and their, beloved cottonwood last spring. Everybody loved that tree but her. Ol' Dick's body was barely cold in the ground when she had it whacked.

The "new" tree is actually in a better location as it stands right behind the seed tubes but on Dick's side of the fence. I couldn't have chosen a better spot for it myself. I hope she doesn't have it cut down too. Thanks to Dick, who appreciated a good tree, it got started around the same time as the cottonwood, about ten years ago when the development was new. But the "new" tree grows slowly so was ignored. You know birds. Bigger is better and they don't like change.

As for the starlings, I wasn't exactly delighted when they first showed up. They are the humans of the bird world, invasive and too damn successful. They toss babies out the nest then claim it for their own. Or they just move in and eat the whole family, the whole neighborhood. But the Bird Park exists under open skies. Everyone is welcome, well except for the cats, but they come anyway. I like to pretend they are too fat and lazy to do much other than fantasize but they try.

Not the hawks. They mean business. One fellow recently made the Bird Park his personal hunting ground and, every now and then, that ends up being a big bummer for someone else. This little quail hit my window trying to escape. M. Lee was outraged that I considered burying him instead of letting the hawk keep him. He was right.