You all know of my adoration of my birdfeeder.
Back at the House Which We Try Not To Mention Anymore, my feeder population was phenomenal due to, I thought, our woodland surroundings. When we moved here all I saw were robins, which we'd never had at the other house, but got old real quick since that was all there was.
Gradually I began to notice more variety; but, still, nothing spectacular. Finally Dirtman put my feeder up and we garnered the typical tufted titmouse and chickadee. He put our birdbath nearby and we've been enjoying watching the tidier birds splashing around, even on the coldest mornings.
Then, this week, they started to arrive: cardinals (which we didn't have at HWWTNTMA), house finches, a blue jay ("Bubba" -- he's a real pig, but not too aggressive. Just kind of big and dumb. He never bathes.), and a downy woodpecker. Still I was a little disappointed that, in spite of keeping the finch feeder well-stocked with nyjer seeds, no gold finches.
And then this morning, I spotted him, dull olive in his seasonal plumage, but here (I did not take the picture at right). So next spring I look forward to the full range of ornithological colors. I can't tell you how happy this makes me.
I've placed an order with my father-in-law for a bluebird house. If you recall, just before decamping from the HWWTNTMA, bluebirds had finally taken up residence in the one we erected there, so we didn't move it. Unfortunately, the bank didn't have quite the same appreciation for nature and yanked down our fence and the bird house with it. I won't go into the emotional ramifications of finding this out...
Happily, though, Dirtman placed the feeder right outside the window of the room where we work, where I do my knitting and audio book listening and where I sew. So I miss very little of what goes on at the birdfeeder. Some people watch soap operas -- I watch the birds.