Posted tagged ‘bird feeders’

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“It is spring again. The earth is like a child that knows poems by heart.”

April 13, 2013

Spawns of Satan is already taken so I don’t know what to call the bird that pecks the side of my house and wakes me up. It has found the most inaccessible spot for me to get at it to shoo it away. I’m thinking a hose with the water at its strongest will reach the spot and scare away the bird. I wouldn’t dare try a stone because I’d probably break a window though it isn’t really all that close to the bird’s spot. It’s not a woodpecker, but I think it’s a nuthatch. Whatever it is doesn’t matter. That bird is going down!

It is still a damp day though the rain has stopped. The temperature is supposed to be in the 40’s and by mid-week close to 60˚. I think the sun would help if it would only come out of hiding.

I have to venture onto the deck later to fill the feeders. I watch the birds from the window while I wait for my coffee and have noticed how bright and beautiful the male gold finches are. Today I also had two house finches and a flicker. My stalwart chickadees have returned though they are fewer than usual.

The mornings are alive with the songs of birds. I woke up at one point and couldn’t see the clock but knew it must be close to dawn as I could hear birds welcoming the day. That is one of the best parts of spring: that the days are again filled with sound. Winter tends to blunt them. We all stay warm and secluded in our houses. The decks and yards are empty. We go from the house to the car to the store to the car and then home. Warm spring days, though, call to us to come outside. The sun is inviting. The world is alive again. It’s as if we’re shedding our winter coats and, like bears, leaving our caves. The long hibernation is finally over.

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“We may sit in our library and yet be in all quarters of the earth.”

April 8, 2013

The day is a delight with sunny skies and a temperature in the high 50’s. Gracie has been out all morning. I will join her in a bit as the feeders need filling, and I need sun.

Today I am tired and bored. Nothing piques my interest. New books on my iPad are just waiting to be read, but I’m not in the mood. I have to go to Hyannis this afternoon for a Cat scan on my back, and I’m bemoaning the trek as if I have a continent to cross. The Red Sox have their home opener at 2, and I will probably watch the festivities. This is unusual for me, this bout of ennui.

The dog woke me up this morning with her intruder bark. I opened the front door and saw my landscaper fertilizing the lawn. We chatted a little bit about the moss which is taking over for a part of the grass. He says he’ll take care of it. I have a feeling I hit the highlight of my day, a conversation about moss. Later I got to thinking how I opened the door without a second thought. If I were the throw away character in a horror movie, a creature would have been in the yard hunting for breakfast. I’d run screaming and Gracie would bark. I’d get eaten and she’d survive by running out the back door. Good thing it was my landscaper.

I’ve concluded my mood comes from my back being painful and from my travel addiction. I can’t seem to solve either one. The back started a couple of weeks ago, and I moan and groan a lot from the pain. The doctor is doing his best, but I suspect nothing will change. I’ll just have to moan a bit more quietly. As for the travel addiction, I have no plans to travel this year. The bank needs to be replenished. Two trips to Ghana were expensive so this is a year to save for the next trip. I’m thinking maybe a weekend somewhere might be in order, but even that could be a bank breaker. Maybe I’ll sit on the deck with posters of the world pinned to the wall, and I’ll pretend I’m on an ocean liner. Every drink will have an umbrella. I’m just going to have to find a cabana boy!

 

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“If the only prayer you said was thank you, that would be enough.”

March 29, 2013

The day is lovely, sunny and fairly warm. I stood outside a long while this morning checking out the lower forty: okay, a bit of an exaggeration there. It was the side yard where the day lilies grow. I noticed their shoots are all above the ground. In the front garden the most beautiful cluster of yellow flowers is blooming. It deserves a picture so I’ll go back out later. All of the crocus are up: purple, yellow, white and a few variegated. I’m thinking they are the best harbingers of spring.

My feeders are empty again, good thing I bought more seed yesterday when I did my errands. Gracie and I did four of them including the dump and Agway, her two favorite spots. I also stopped at Hot Diggity Dog and bought Gracie some pastries for Easter then went next store to Buckies Biscotti and treated myself to lunch and a cupcake. It was altogether a most satisfying day.

We always had Good Friday off from school though the nuns expected us, the older kids, to pick an hour to do vigil between noon and three. The vigil was in the downstairs church, never in the big church upstairs. I remember how dark and quiet the church was. All the statues were covered in purple cloth. The only sounds were the creaking of the pews as people came and went or just tried to make themselves more comfortable on the wooden pews. I remember wearing play clothes to do vigil, even pants. It wasn’t like a Sunday when you had to wear a dress. There was always a nun sitting in the back checking us in and out. We only had to stay an hour, but it seemed far longer just sitting there quietly and supposedly praying. I sneaked in a book a couple of times and got caught once. The nun just held out her hand, and I gave it to her. I must have look too suspiciously pious with my head bent in constant prayer. She gave me back the book when I left.

Some years, when I was teaching, Good Friday was just before April vacation week so I got to leave early, on Thursday night, for Europe. I usually went every April. One year my sister and I went to London. She had never been there, and I had been there several times so I let her pick what she wanted to do, and we did everything on her list and more. I remember waking up on Easter morning and finding the Easter Bunny had left fudge eggs and cards, both compliments of our parents who had sneaked them to each of us to give to the other. That Easter Sunday we went to Windsor Castle, and there were huge crowds wandering around and a band was playing. I remember it was really windy and cold. That’s my strongest memory of that Easter Sunday.

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“The woods would be quiet if no bird sang but the one that sang best.”

March 28, 2013

The morning is cloudy and was rainy earlier but it was a small rain, droplets. I would moan and groan about the sunless world in which I live except this morning was different. Over the sound of the rain I could hear birds singing. They were greeting the morning, and rain didn’t matter: it was the joy of the morning.

I stood at the kitchen window and watched the flicker pecking at suet in the feeder I bought just for him. A bird I don’t know waited its turn. I’ll look it up later in my bird book. One goldfinch was bright with color, the first to break out of winter drab. I noticed the thistle feeder is empty. I’ve had more goldfinches than ever, sometimes seven or eight at the same time, and thistle is a favorite of theirs. The chickadees are few, and I miss them. They, the titmice and nuthatches are the sunflower seed birds. I have three different feeders for them. The sole woodpecker is either at the suet in the small feeder or tapping a pine tree. The small suet feeder looks like a house. It’s kind of cool and the birds grab on upside down.

I don’t remember people having bird feeders in their yards when I will little. The few times we went to Boston in the warmer weather, I remember feeding the pigeons and the ducks at the Public Garden. I also remember feeding the squirrels. That was before their spawn days. I thought it was really neat to see them so up-close. Pigeons are still fun to watch. Drop a few pieces of bread and they all move to the same spot, pushing and shoving and even taking to the air. They are very noisy birds. I always feel bad about pigeons. They’re nobody’s favorite bird. They have squat bodies and are dull in color. Pigeons seem to hang around in large numbers so the odds of getting bread are slim. I always try to throw some to the back of the pack which then makes all them turn just about at the same time and they all squawk about the inconvenience.

My mother used to get pigeons at her feeders, city birds we’d call them. It frustrated her to no end. She wanted cute little birds like chickadees, but, instead, she’d get sparrows, almost as common as the pigeons. The crows dropped by often because my mother was always throwing out something for them. “Save it for the crows,” she’d tell us. Once she got a seagull. That was a puzzler. She called to have me guess the bird which had visited. I didn’t guess seagull. That’s one bird which has never ever stopped at my feeders. I guess my mother’s was a country cousin of sorts visiting its city cousins. She never saw another seagull in her yard.

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“It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.”

March 8, 2013

Earliest I sloshed my way to the mailbox and then to the driveway to get the papers. My road is slush covered. Tire marks show the route of my paper delivery, and when I got inside, I could see my footprints. It is lightly snowing, slanted and from the northeast, but I can also hear drips on the deck from the roof. The weather for today is rainy and cold with temperatures in the 30’s. I just hope it stays above freezing. The wind was with us all night but has since pretty much disappeared. On the early news was a house which had fallen into the ocean. I suspect it won’t be the last as the rain pits and wears away the dunes. This is just ugly. The only bright spot is I have heat and electricity.

I stood at the back door while the coffee perked. The storm is a bit mesmerizing with the snow coming across rather than down. The railing on the deck outside the door has an inch or more of what used to be snow and is now slush. That slush is the color of cement and Gracie’s paw prints look permanent as if she walked across the new part of a sidewalk. Lots of birds are hovering around the feeder, the squirrel buster feeder. I filled it the other day so there is plenty of seed. All of the birds are gold finches still clad in their dull winter feathers.

March is a difficult month. It doesn’t know whether it wants to be the first spring month or the last month of winter. Easter is at the end of the month so March best make up its mind. Light dresses and pastels don’t work as well with winter coats.

I know they’ll be snow and frost and windshield scraping. I have lived in New England all of my life and haven’t thought about moving anywhere else. Winter is the price we pay for spring and fall, especially fall. All I ask is a sunny day, a winter’s sunny day is fine with me. I know the winter sun is sharper and colder, but sun is sun, and it makes me glad.

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“Progress is made by lazy men looking for easier ways to do things.”

March 5, 2013

It is, as my mother would have described it, a raw day, the sort where you feel chilled to the bone from the cold and damp. Right now there is a snow shower with small flakes being blown about by the wind. It won’t amount to anything, but its mere existence is beyond the pale. “Too much, too much,” I whine to no one but myself.

The weather in today’s Cape Times predicted the rest of the week much like today. Each day has the possibility of rain or snow showers. Saturday will be the first sunny day, if the paper’s prediction is correct. I went out earlier and filled the bird feeders. Gracie didn’t even bother to get off the couch until she heard me drop something. She then came to the deck, checked out what I was doing and then went right back inside the house, back to the couch.

Last night I was so tired I went to bed around 9:30, unheard for me, the night owl. I slept through until 8 and stayed in bed under the covers a little bit longer. I was too warm and cozy to face this day. I could see the sky through my window and nothing about it was inviting. When I came downstairs, Gracie went right outside. That surprised me as usually I have to open the door. Not this time: I never closed the back door last night. I guess I didn’t force Gracie out one more time but, instead, just shut off the light in the den and went upstairs to bed.

My legs are still wobbly from the vet bill yesterday. It was closer to $400 than $300, and this was a well dog visit, but the outcome couldn’t have been better. Gracie is healthy, and the vet said she is beautiful. If she didn’t have some grey on her muzzle, the vet said she’d think Gracie is still a puppy. She told me whatever I’m doing is working well as most boxers she sees tend to be overweight, but not Miss Gracie. She also got her nails done yesterday, like a sort of mini-spa.

When I was a kid, we had a boxer named Duke. He never had a well dog visit. He got rabies shots I think but nothing else. My father used to douse him in flea powder periodically. He ate canned dog food with horse meat. He was free to roam anywhere he wanted, and he did. He wasn’t supposed to get on the couch, but he always slept there when we weren’t around, and we could hear him get off the couch in the mornings when we’d go downstairs. Duke lived a long, long life for a boxer though he wasn’t pampered, didn’t eat all natural foods, ate Oreos my sisters fed him and anything else left on our plates. I don’t know if there is a lesson in that. I know we people are less immune to germs because our lives are so antiseptic. Maybe it’s the same with dogs.

I had an idea to do a couple of errands today but that thought disappeared with the first flake. I’m not even going to bother to get dressed. I will out-sloth a sloth today! Maybe I’ll pay some bills so I can claim a bit of industry.

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“New Year’s Day is every man’s birthday.”

January 1, 2013

Today is cold but warmer than yesterday. I can hear drips from the roof falling onto the deck as the snow melts. The birds are back. Even before my coffee I went outside and refilled the large feeder. I still haven’t located the bird bath heaters, but I know if I buy another, I’ll find the first two. That is the law of averages for me. I met my friend for breakfast this morning. I noticed a few other spots were opened as well, not like Christmas morning when the world seemed deserted except for my diner.

I’m going to watch the Rose Parade this morning as I do every year. I love the floats and am always amazed at how beautiful they are and sometimes how imaginative and whimsical. When the announcers list what was used to create them, I can’t imagine standing there gluing mustard seeds or the other small natural ingredients used to decorate them. I can’t even make decent looking crepe paper flowers with pipe cleaner stems.

The most difficult chore of this new year is remembering to put the right year on my checks. The first couple usually end up needing correction. Luckily, though, most of my bills are paid on-line, and they can figure out the year.

I have an empty dance card for this year, at least so far. No trips are planned though my travel bug itches for one. The deck looks deserted with its covered furniture, stacked tubs filled with decorations to be hung from the branches and with candles, lots of candles, to light and hang from the trees. Summer is a long way off when the ground is covered with snow.

Today I’ll go down to visit my friends, and we’ll play some games and eat dinner together. That’s the best start to a new year.

 

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“Between Ennui and Ecstasy unwinds our whole experience of time.”

December 29, 2012

Today is raw which was always my mother’s description for damp and cold. The sky is that grey-white color which means rain or snow or, in our case, a bit of both. The snow will start off-Cape tonight while we’ll get rain then the tail end of the snow storm will hit us and bring maybe an inch or two or even up to four.

I’m not going anywhere today. The outside world doesn’t look all that inviting. I do have to fill a couple of feeders, and I’ll put the new one out and maybe fold and bring up the clothes in the dryer but that last one is a long shot.

When I sit down to write Coffee, I am often at a loss as to what to say. Day-to-day, or at least my day-to-day, is so consistent it lends itself to ennui, to boredom. Didn’t she just write about that I imagine you’re thinking as you read about Gracie and the weather. Other days my mind is filled with all sorts of neat stuff. Some of it is imaginative, and it grows out of daydreaming or a TV program or a book I’m reading, and I share even though you might think it borders on the crazy, the very weird. Memories often fill my mind triggered by something I saw or even smelled. You have all been to Ghana with me so many times I wonder if you groan and say, “Not Ghana again!” On my sloth days you already know that I’ll be doing nothing except reading and eating the proverbial bon bons.

What brought all this on? Well, one of the blogs I have been reading for years, Letters from a Hill Farm, is closing down. Nan has decided, “To live my life without writing about my life.” That got me thinking. I have been writing Coffee since 2004, the year I retired. I wrote every day for several years then I started taking Wednesdays off, a sort of mid-week breather. After my coffee and papers every morning, I sit in front of the computer hoping I have something to say, something you’ll enjoy or remember or something you can relate to. Where am I going with this? Not away as I really like writing and I love my Coffee family. I just want to be reassured that on days like today when I have nothing to say you’ll still listen.

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“Rarely does one see a squirrel tremble.”

June 15, 2012

Cue the trumpets! It was coffee and the papers on the deck this morning for the first time this season, and the sun was so bright I felt like the Mad Hatter moving from chair to chair to avoid the glare. Gracie came with me and she found the shade. While there, I noticed the deck needs some more sweeping because of the rain storms, and I’ll do that later as I intend to spend most of the day there with book (disguised as my iPad) in hand.

Tonight is the first play of the season, and it is at the Cape Playhouse. The Hound of the Baskervilles is the play, but, according to the review, it,” … is absurd. Ridiculous. Overblown,” but then the critic goes on to say, ” But please, please don’t let that stop you, because those are exactly the things that make it an extremely successful, albeit odd, twist on the old Sherlock Holmes yarn.” I am curious and a bit uneasy. I always think of Sherlock Holmes as a character with whom you don’t meddle, but I will reserve judgment until I see the play.

I woke up when it was almost light, and I heard the chorus of birds greeting the new day. The air was filled with bird songs, and I stayed awake a while to listen. It is a perfect way to start the day, with a joyous sound. I fell asleep again but I think I might have been smiling.

The gray spawns of Satan have not been around. It seems they have been replaced by the evil red spawns who have been known to attack their grey cousins. The red spawns are small enough to fit in between the wires of the squirrel proof feeders, and when I see them at those feeders, I run out to the deck like a screaming mad woman. Well, actually, I am a screaming mad woman with mad having all sorts of connotations. Maybe, once the deck season starts in earnest, the spawns will stay away. I can only hope, but if that doesn’t work, I’m thinking a weapon might be what I need. Maybe I’ll try a potato gun. They can always eat the ammo.

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“The regulars are coming out!”

April 18, 2010

The sun has been in and out all morning. I hope it decides to stay.

Last night Gracie was after a mouse. The sounds of her dislodging its hiding places are what alerted me. When I first checked, Gracie was standing still and patiently watching one spot in the living room. A bit later I heard her in the dining room where she was standing alert by the chest on the floor near the windows. She was there a long time. Finally, Gracie joined me in the den, jumped on her chair and went to sleep. I figured the beastie had gotten the better of her.

This morning I found a dead mouse, a little gray mouse, on the dining room floor. I suspect Gracie was the cause of its demise. When the cats do in a mouse, the departed looks untouched, merely sleeping. This one had no apparent injuries but did have matted fur. A DNA analysis would probably discover canine spit. My dog, the mighty hunter!

From my window I can see the bird feeders. A downy woodpecker is munching away at the suet, and a greedy blue jay is flapping its wings for balance at a smaller feeder as it grabs seeds. It’s too big to land securely on the perch. Gold finches are back, the males now a bright yellow. The chickadees never left. A squirrel is hanging upside down and eating at one of the feeders so I have to excuse myself for just a minute………I’m back. The squirrel is gone.

It’s a long weekend here. Tomorrow is Patriot’s Day. It’s also Marathon Monday, and the Sox start at 11. Over at Lexington and Concord, the Redcoats are coming, but, don’t worry, the warning will be in time.  The Minutemen will be ready.

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