The Days of our Yards

-
There was a short spurt in my life when my first child was an infant that I became hopelessly addicted to a soap opera.  Once when the show was cut out due to dangerous storm coverage, I actually wrote the station a nasty letter complaining that I missed my program because of their overprotective forecasting.  (I am still fairly ashamed of this.)
Thankfully my addiction didn’t last long and besides that bit of time, I have never been much of a person to enjoy watching the drama in someone else’s life.  I love a good storyline, but can’t stand to spend my spare time wrapped up in the problems of someone else when I have plenty of my own.
So I don’t watch soaps.  On television, that is.
Every spring when days get warmer and brighter, I get much better at keeping my bird feeders full.  “You spend more on those birds than you do me,” chirps my husband.   I can’t help myself, though.  Those birds become the soap opera that I never thought I’d ever watch, but I do.
I stand at my kitchen sink, occasionally washing a dish or two, and scan for the latest backyard drama.  And it’s getting juicy.
There’s a robin that was just crazy enough to build her nest right on the platform of our swing set next to the slide.  She sits there constantly until the kids get home from school and run screaming into the yard, but always keeps watch, which is really smart because there are also cowbirds and bluejays in the area.  (Both of those are potential bad guys who might harm those eggs.)  That mom is always on guard, and if you’re a bird, don’t even try to get close.  She’ll dive bomb you and flap you right on out of there.
She’s got neighbors, too.  Messy house sparrows have moved into one nesting box, but the sweetest little Carolina wrens are setting up shop in another one.  So much comedy as they gather twigs longer than the entry hole and have to figure out how to get them in there.
More neighbors are expected, too, or at least visitors.  The hummingbird feeders are set and ready alongside the regular feeders that often serve as the main stage for the backyard drama.  In the spring, you never know who will show up.  A rose-breasted grosbeak might make a cameo appearance.  And then everything is peaceful until a squirrel shows up, or a quirky chipmunk miraculously makes it way up the post. 

If you’re not a backyard bird watcher, chances are you think I’m a little nuttier than those aforementioned squirrels.  Maybe I am.  But a promise that nothing is an unpredictable as the nature out your backdoor.  And I’ll even venture further to say that birdseed is probably cheaper than cable.  At least that’s what I tell my husband.

Published 5/11/14

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Bedtime

-
            It is a cruel world we live in, when the time for sleep is never the time we want it to be. Ever.             There are, of course, exceptions, but speaking from my own personal experience, I’m not sure I’ve ever really been able to go to sleep exactly when I wanted. I can’t remember a single time (although I also can’t remember what I had for dinner last night) that I’ve had the pleasure of announcing, “I’m tired. I’m going to bed and no one or nothing is going to stop me.”             As tiny infants we know no better and haven’t yet adjusted to any sort of schedule. After living in darkness for all of our lives, we suddenly find ourselves with lights and sun and lovely people who are trying to train us to sleep at times when we really don’t want to, but aren’t sure why.      ...
Read more

Darn the first entry -- THE BOOTS.

-
I hope to, years from now, sift back through the archives to view the very first entry of this blog. And most likely, I'll be disappointed because reading things that you've personally written aren't quite the same as reading what someone else wrote. Just like coffee and salad always taste better when someone else makes it. It's one of those worldly mysteries that not even Nancy Drew could figure out. I'm starting this blog in lieu of my old web site which is now defunct because the whole economy is going somewhere in a handbasket. But this [free!] alternative gives me one great place to post everything and anything I want, combining my old blogs, SmallTownSoup.blogspot.com and OutdoorMama.blogspot.com. But to put something of substance in this first entry of this new blog, I thought I'd tell a bit about the boots you see in the logo. This photo was taken before Annie was big enough to wear shoes, so there's only two little boots following mine. Toby's a...
Read more

Pepe le Pew and Cupid, too

-
            Phenology is the study of seasonal natural phenomena, especially in relation to climate and plant and animal life. Watching the way nature changes with the calendar can be a neat way to track the world and make ridiculous comparisons and conclusions about fragrant animals, diapered babies and bow and arrows, and old cartoons characters with a French accent.             Living in Ohio, we never know what the weather in February will bring. We can assume snow, but even the most astute student of phenology will tell you that weather (not climate) is not what makes most things in nature happen.             So I go to two reliable signs of February: Love and skunks.             I’m sure everyone will agree that February is the month of love, with the whol...
Read more