I've taken to calling him Frankie -- as in Sinatra.Frankie has everything. He's the most debonair house finch of them all. His red feathers put all the other guys' plumage to shame.
He's got the moves, too. Frankie's smooth on the perch with just a little clownishness to make him endearing.
But, oh, when he sings! He stretches out his neck, opens his beak and out comes a cascade of ringing trills that draws every female house finch within miles to our side yard. They hang off the birdfeeder; they perch in nearby trees; they adore him from the ground.
Sadly, his performance always outlasts his worshipers' stamina and they are off with other, less talented fellows.He continues to sing long after they've left, in love with his own voice.
2 comments:
How lucky you are to have such sweet sounding songs to entertain you. I have the screamers. "Them" that live upstairs in my house to torment me. My other half insists on keeping them even though he knows I have dreams of opening the door and setting them free. I hear the haunting screams of something wild and untamed probably calling demons from the back upstairs room. The parrot and his sidekick the cockatiel will live far longer then my other half. Then it's lights out for 'them'. You are truly blessed. IH
IH: Just be glad you don't have Dark Garden anywhere near your birds. He teaches his African Gray all sorts of rude remarks which the bird uses to greet their family each morning.
It's pretty funny, though.
Of course, I don't live with it....
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