Sunday

5 November 2017

— Pink East

Good Morning All,

About an hour after I sent out yesterday’s Day Book, I get a response from California, where it must have been around 1:00 a.m.: Feed the Wren!

To which I wrote back: You big softy!

But then, during the rest of the day,  I got four more responses. None  told me to tough it out. None reminded me that these damn lazy birds could find food if they got off their butts, and I should not encourage them to be welfare cheats.

All suggested the wren was right: I was being little minded.

So, I have compromised. I put a cupful of the shelled seeds into one of the suction-cup feeders on the window. Since it was a bit of a ceremony, I used the green, flexible plastic cup that normally lives in my bathroom, where I put it back after the ceremony. As it happens, it is the same green, flexible plastic cup I have been keeping my toothbrush in since we moved to Arlington in 1953 when I was seven. (But not the same toothbrush.)

(Reminds me of Yankee joke: “Bert, how long you had that ax?” Bert answers, proudly, “Thirty seven years. Had to replace the handle twice, but the head only once.”)

Before pouring the seed into the feeder, I turned to address the glade of trees beyond my fence and said, “All right, you birds, I greet you in the name of Jesus Christ, Woody Woodpecker, Foghorn J. Leghorn, and The Road Runner. Please enjoy this bounty, share it with your neighbors, regardless of species or religious affiliation, and try not to crap too much on my patio bricks.”

It may have been my imagination, but I could have sworn I heard out there in the trees a soft, fluttery sound something like what wings clapping would make.

Not that there has been all that much activity so far, although the wren stopped by this morning, perched on the ledge, gave me a quick glance that might have meant Way to Go, Doofis, took up a seed, rolled it a couple of times in its bill to secure it, and took off again.

Go Well and Stay Well,

Bhekaron,

P.S. Yes, I know, I had planned to share with you my November sonnet today, but the above seemed marginally more newsworthy. Besides, anything as mediocre as my November sonnet is worth waiting for.

P.P.S. Two Holly snaps: