Yesterday, I watered my hanging baskets, and, for the second time, scared up an Oregon junco, who flew up into the nearby firs and scolded me.
“How dare you pour water on me?” she chipped.
Today, I had a closer look. Yes, the junco flew out for the third time that I have disturbed her. But when I parted the flowers and looked into the base of the pot, I felt just sick to think I had been pouring water on a little junco nest of five eggs.
I felt terrible to think of what I had put her through, and that I might have hurt her eggs. I thought nesting time was over!
And now, I’m wondering how I can save my hanging basket if I don’t water it.
*****
P.S. The Smashwords sale begins today with my e-books being 50% off.
Go to the smashwords link https://www.smashwords.com/shelves/promos/ and type in my book titles in the search box at the top of the page. You can find the titles on the sidebars of all my posts.
“Wow! Will ya look at the birdfeeders swinging sideways!
And what gives with all the birds making themselves at home in MY home?
There must be a hundred of them parked in all the entrances to my hidey-holes in the woodshed. Zoom on in and look at the pieces of wood. Nearly every piece is occupied.
Oh, well. They’re just trying to get out of the wind too. I suppose I can always sneak in the back door if need be.”
“Floyd! You’ve been at the suet block forever!” says Johnny Junco. “Don’t you think you should give me a turn?”
“Bah! Go eat the seeds I drop,” says Floyd.
Rufus and his Missus zoom in as soon as Floyd takes a break. “How is it?” asks Rufus.
“A lot of fat before you can get to the good stuff,” she says.
“Well, why don’t you get right into the cage?” Rufus says. “You’re slim enough.”
“Why thank you,” the Missus says. “How kind of you to say so. I hadn’t thought of that. But you stand guard in case Floyd or his girlfriend, Bossy Flossie, comes back.”
“I guess I’ll just have to pick at what drops on the ground,” Johnny says. “Those guys are just too big for me to take on. But at least there’s something for everyone.”
Orson, the Oregon junco, has found a sunny spot to rest.
“Ooooh! This is so toasty on my body. The sun has warmed the railing. It feels glorious after so much cold wind.”
“Ahh … this is SO nice! I’ll get some of that warmth on my throat too. Oh, my goodness, that is so wonderful.”
“Oops! Excuse me. Nature calls. I’m trying to be modest, turning my back, but why do I have the feeling I’m on Candid Camera?”
“Hmm … the evidence … it’s still there. What to do? What to do? Oh, no! I’m such a birdbrain.”
“I just can’t have anyone pointing an accusing feather, saying it was me. They’ll probably put it on Twitter. Still, I needn’t worry. If they put anything on Twitter, the birds would be canceled for expressing an unpopular opinion. Meanwhile, only one thing to do and that’s flee the scene of the crime.”
The evidence was left behind, but before a half hour passed by, the heavens opened up and the whole deck was full of evidence. Well … it looked like more evidence.
Loads of evidence covered the railing as a freak hailstorm blew in and then out again as quickly as it had come. Orson was spared many accusations, and he felt a lot lighter.
It’s not a turkey that needs to be carved, but Fletcher the Flicker is getting creative as he dines on a snack of suet at the feeder.
“I’m going to carve you into a little duckling. Who knows? It might improve the flavour.”
“Oops! What was I thinking? I’ve eaten your bill, my little duckling.”
“Hmm! You’ve got a problem there, Fletch.”
“Well don’t just sit there and criticize, Orson. Do you have any bright ideas?”
“I guess not. Unless he’s gone to think about it….”
“Well, Fletch, I … er … let’s see …. For one thing, his bum’s too fat.”
Fletcher closes his eyes and counts to ten. “Lord give me strength.”
But then Orson has an idea.
“You pick away under his chin – that will help – and I’ll pick away at his fat tush. And by the way, it’s great working with you, Fletch. That snarky starling is not nearly as nice as you are.”
“I’m keeping my distance when he’s around. Get a load of that spearing beak and those mean, beady eyes. Not to mention that grabbing set of claws he’s got. No, Sir! I’m not doing anything to draw attention to myself. No sneaking a bite while he’s there.”
Fletcher carves a duck of suet,
Asks his friend for help to do it.
Orson's happy to oblige him
Least he knows he won't get bludgeoned.
Snarky starling, meanest birdy,
Doesn't share, and oft plays dirty.
Orson spends his time with Fletcher,
Both are happy, yep, you betcha.
“Eh? Orson? What’s that you said?” That Oregon junco knows everything that’s going on around here.
It's a chilly wind today,
My fur coat is on to stay,
I'm so happy to be warm,
With the temps below the norm.
“If you’d pay attention, Lincoln, you’d know there’s been a big change in the weather.” Him and his big fur coat. He probably hasn’t even noticed.But just look at Emma. She’s still trying to figure it out too.
Look now, Lincoln! See the ground,
See the flakes fall all around?
Food will be more precious though,
Covered as it is with snow.
“Sheesh! This is just like in the movies where Bambi says, ‘Mother, what’s all that white stuff?’ and she says, with her soft, stunned voice, like some naive housewife out of a 50s sitcom, ‘Why … it’s snow!'”
Emma snarfs in deep, long sniffs,
White stuff gives off special whiffs,
Did a raccoon pass by here?
Did a rabbit scratch his ear?
Licking, tasting flakes of snow.
Tries to bite it, where'd it go?
Funny flakes of wetness fall,
On her head and over all.
Emma gives her coat a shake,
Leaving just one lonely flake,
Sitting on her pointy nose,
Then into the house she goes.
wordsfromanneli 