The Bird Feeder

So...I promise I've not dropped off the face of the earth or anything (although it has felt like that just a little bit).  I've been finishing my independent paper for my MA portfolio and I'm excited to say that it's finished and I turned it in yesterday!!! I don't know if I've ever been that excited to turn in a paper.

Anyway...since I've not had time to write on here I thought I'd share a short creative nonfiction piece that I composed for our class blog.  It's called "The Bird Feeder"...enjoy :)

My husband bought me a bird feeder this year for Valentine’s Day. I know some people might think that seems like a gift you’d give your seventy-year-old grandmother to hang on her porch so she could watch the birds while she sits in her rocking chair, but I thought the gift was terribly romantic. My husband and I are usually found doing the activities of elders anyway – Sunday matinees, James Taylor and Carol King concerts, or browsing antique shops – so it makes perfect sense if you were to make that comparison.

The bird feeder has a forest green top and a base that provides railing for the birds to perch and enjoy their meal. The base also has a couple small attachments that look almost like leaves where the birds can sit with a little more room if they so choose. The seed itself is packed tight into a large cylinder which can be changed out every few months or so. I’d never really seen a feeder quite this big before, but then again I’ve never been much of a bird feeder connoisseur.

Since he gave it to me in February we’ve only recently begun sighting birds. What we didn’t suspect was the amount of birdseed they’d drop onto our balcony and our railing; they sure are messy little things.

Cleaning up the mess they've left

A pair having their breakfast - I can't seem to catch a pic of them when they're eating from the feeder

We’ve been entertained not only by the birds themselves, but also with our cats’ fascination with them; they could sit for hours, watching them out the window. Although sometimes they get the dire urge to pounce, smacking their heads against the glass window – one reason we’ve tried to leave the door open for them. The screen’s not nearly is solid.

Last year they spent endless summer days chasing down wasps that would come in through the small holes in the screen door; we’d find groups of wasps lying dead on the carpet. I can just imagine my husband, ever the softy for all God’s creatures, saying a short prayer for them as he scooped them up in his hand and tossed their small bodies into the pots of dirt on our porch, to dust we shall return.

This year I’m sure Sammy and Sophie would similarly love to get their paws on those little birds – becoming rounder by the day, I might add – but they’ll be stuck on the other side of the screen door, contained from their natural instincts to chase them outside. Sophie will have to continue making her birdy sounds within the confines of our apartment, and Sammy will take it all much better – choosing to nap on the couch to keep his mind off it all. I can just imagine Sophie sitting attentively at the door, poised to strike but for the screen in her way, looking back at Sammy asleep on the couch, “We should have left those damn wasps alone.”