Day 1: The "blogging" begins! Since I am a writer and participate in several writing groups, I knew it was time to get on board with the blogging rage. Even so, the weight of responsibility for creating something worth reading is huge to me and it has, quite frankly, deterred me. But as a good friend recently told me, it is time for me to "GET OVER IT!". She also added that "No one is ever going to see it anyway, let alone read it".
Really? No one? lol
2/5/10 Journal Entry: The titmice are gathering in the bare branches of the plum tree. I can see them from my comfy living room couch. They are clearly suspicious of the bird seed that I've set out on the front porch. Last night it was too darn cold to stand out there pouring a 20-pound bag of seed into the feeders. Instead I filled a small pan with a few scoops of the mix and placed it onto one of the porch's lounge chairs that has been braving this winter's storms. To entice the birdies to the unusual new feeding platform, I sprinkled two handfuls of seed along the porch railing. Surely the birdies would approve? If they are hungry enough, they'll eat, wont they? But I see now that the titmice are not at all convinced of its safety.
Titmice have pointed head-dressings that look like tiny feathered dunce-caps crowning their diminutive grey and white bodies. I love their look, and their tweet, and I'd like them to visit often (even if that means I need to pay for their lunch). This business of their being suspicious of my offering is a bit upsetting to me, but not upsetting enough to make me go out in the cold air to refill the actual feeders.
Or is it?
There is a big storm coming and I want the birdies to know that they will have food accessible on my porch, even if all their other feeding grounds are buried under the predicted 18 inches of snow.
I tip-toe into the den to peek out onto the porch. If the titmice are all still flitting about in the plum tree, is no one taking part in the feast I set out? Ah-HA! I see a black-capped chickadee zipping out of the rhododendron to the feed pan. He acts like he is stealing, picking seed swiftly after landing and then darting back into the bush. I wonder if even he is suspicious of this new feeding site? As I ponder this a thought hits me hard: the food is a mere 14" off the porch floor and a cat would have easy pickings if these birds are not careful. A moment later, I see a titmouse land to eat. He stays longer than the chickadee, which only makes that dunce cap seem all the more telling. His titmouse buddies are all still up the in the plum branches, tweeting warnings above their empty hungry bellies. I brush a few stray hairs from my face with the back of my hand, the chickadee comes and flits away but the titmouse continues to eat.
If I care about these precious creatures, it is clear that I will have to fill my hanging feeders before the snow begins to fly. Keep them fed, but keep them safe... a job half-done is no job at all.
That rings true for so many things, doesn't it?
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