My Short Career as a Feeder of Birds

My mother had birdfeeders for years. She loved birds, and she employed a variety of feeders. In the winter, and winter lasts a long time in Fulton, New York, she had many colorful birds at the feeders-- cardinals, blue jays, evening grosbeaks, purple finches, goldfinches, as well as chickadees, nuthatches and my special favorites, the juncoes. Naturally, not only the celebrity birds benefited from the feeders. Dozens of sparrows, not to mention starlings, grackles, and other proletarian birds, also got many meals at my mother's expense, not to mention squirrels, chipmunks, and, much as it pains me to admit it, the occasional rat. And I'm sorry to say, some cats and predator birds also profited from my mother's largesse, but it wasn't so bad that it ever discouraged her from her charitable works on behalf of her feathered friends.

My next-door neighbor has a couple of feeders in her back yard, and I love to see the cardinals and other colorful birds at her feeders. I don't have any feeders myself, because so much snow collects in the back yard during the winter that I doubt whether I could get out there regularly to replenish the feeders, and it seems unfair to attract the birds during the better weather and then abandon them when they need it most. There are also enough cats in my neighborhood that I have misgivings about helping them to get an easy meal. Nevertheless, I enjoy watching the birds at my neighbor's feeder and look forward to watching her bird visitors during the winter.

When I was in law school, I lived in an upstairs apartment in a house in the city of Tonawanda, New York. One winter I got the idea of putting a bird feeder on the flat roof outside my kitchen window. The feeder was nothing special. It consisted of a large aluminum pie plate filled with bird seed from the grocery store, and the birds who took advantage of it weren't special either, being only sparrows, and a great many sparrows, at that. I never realized until then how many different kinds of sparrows there were, and I loved to watch them.

Unfortunately, I wasn't a feeder of birds for long. One day, my landlady informed me, somewhat apologetically, that she wanted me to take the bird feeder down. According to her, the birds on the roof made too much noise. I did as she wished, but I was very sorry about it, because I had enjoyed watching the birds from close up. So there I was, even though involuntarily, a faithless feeder of sparrows. I still regret it, but there's no reasoning with landladies who have decided that somehow the birds must be damaging the roof, which is what I'm sure she did believe. Spoilsport!

Ravens and Rituals

I love crows and related birds. They're noisy creatures, but they're very smart, and they seem to be everywhere, city or country. In that way, they remind me of sparrows, another of my favorite birds. True, they're not particularly gorgeous, and they're anything but rare, but it's comforting to know that you can find them almost anywhere, even the parking lot at McDonald's.

I bet you didn't know that blue jays are members of the crow family, but they are. They're such beautiful birds, but their raucous cries betray their corvine origins. Corvine means "crow-like," if you haven't guessed already. I have crows, ravens and blue jays in abundance at my house in Oswego. They may be of humble origin, but it's nice to hear them in the mornings and know that at least some of nature's creatures have survived another day.

Crows are extremely intelligent birds. Here is a link to an article about the intelligence of crows, and recent studies have shown that crows can recognize human faces.

The photo above is of three ravens having a meeting in the snow. They look to me as if they're having a good gossip, or maybe they're complaining about the weather. There are ravens in my neighborhood, too. One morning a few weeks ago, a raven was perched on the roof of my garage, shrieking at some smaller birds sitting on the backyard fence. Then the raven swooped down into the yard, picked up one of Peterkin's dog cookies and left. Peterkin is my dog, a 6.3 pound Yorkie, who's pretty raucous himself. Ever since, I've been keeping watch to make sure that the raven doesn't come back looking to pick up Peterkin!

In 2004, I wrote the poem below, which seems to go pretty well with the picture, even though the poem refers to crows instead of ravens. Birds of a feather, and all that.

RITUAL

Three black crows greeted me today;
they flew all night from Babylon to get here.
I watch for them as soon as winter comes;
God only knows why they come back again.
Next year I'll watch for them once more,
like Dido waiting for her lover.

Crow-eyes follow me to sleep at night,
like black and shiny beetles on a twig.
Their evil faces leer at me, eyes full of spite;
I wish they'd stop. They make my dreams
too hard and sharp, like pins under my pillow.