Birds Watching

I started feeding the birds a couple of winters ago. It began as an effort to entertain my indoor cats. They still come and pretend they can hunt them through the force field, also known as a window pane. But I am the primary bird watcher.   I can see the as I work. That first winter I had cardinals, finches, blue jays - which I gather some folks like like, black-capped chickadees - our state bird, nuthatches.  The second  winter the sparrows pretty much took over so I was not diligent about putting it up.  Now, to lure back my chickadees and finches I have more than one kind of feeder.  I have noticed many things about these birds as I have been doing this.  One is the way the birds react when I put the feeder in a different position - hanging it, instead of putting it on the fire escape grating, putting it on a barrel, stringing it up in stead of using a wire hook.  For one, they are more cooperative when the feeder situation is new.  Perhaps it is a kind of wariness.  They also take their time approaching.

Down in the Caribbean when birds find a school of prey fish they make a racket, alerting others of their find.  I used to wonder about that behavior.  I had theories, including reciprocity, strength of a flock - though these are in the main non-migratory birds.  But watching the birds at my feeder another idea presented itself.

The birds are not only watched, they watch.  They watch me, for one thing.   If I get too close to the window most take off. A couple of clever mourning doves will stay put waiting to see if I'm actually going to open the window.  Occasionally, I leave the window open so I can hear them better, cracking the nuts, the flap of their wings.  When they all take off at once, for reasons I have yet to work out, the sound will come straight through the window, a short sharp gust.  Sometimes, on very cold days, it will happen when a number of them are still eating. Doesn't matter. Whatever the signal all of them are off in that instant. i don't know if a hawk or falcon gets spotted over head, we have plenty here, or if it's just a favorable breeze. I do know that eating at a bird feeder is perilous.  Not only because I have heard tales, but because these birds show me.  They will hop to the feeder, grab a morsel and hop to the wrought iron to eat.  There is always one bird facing away from the feeder and from the building out to the dangerous world.  Some birds do prefer to be alone at the feeder, the tiny chickadee, the timid Downy Woodpecker. Cardinals are okay with a few fellows around but are put off by a crowd. Finches are elitists, it seems and the males, at least, prefer to eat only around other finches. Oddly the nuthatch doesn't seem to care, as long as it can forage upside down.

They know when the window is open.  On occasion a chickadee has flown in, looped around my lavender and bougainvillea and flown out again, but I think they are just checking for a secret stash.  They don't linger.  And thankfully, they don't defecate.  The Starlings seem to know I don't like them.  I am pro-immigration, but they seem more like an invading horde.  And they bully other birds at the feeder.  My Blue Jays don't bully.  Perhaps because the space where the feeder sits or hangs is too confined.  When the window is open the Starlings will not come to the feeder.  They wait below for the seeds that fall into the planter I have on the second floor fire escape.  Clever birds.

 They don't worry about me when I am engrossed in work.  I can peak over and see them having their chat, whether it's a morning get together, or a late afternoon forage.  If I watch them, they watch me more closely.  Some are camera shy, others pose.  I've had this happen elsewhere. In Chengdu, China I swear swallows were taunting me.  Then in Santiago, Chile one particular parrot was ever so ready for his close-up. Birds have their personalities, for sure.  I have come to think of the birds at my feeder as "my birds." There is a finch couple that visits only a couple of times a week.  The male stays in the tree while the female eats.  I am sure when she flies off she has a meaty nut for him. I wonder why he doesn't come over. He's a ruby breasted beauty.  The tree, bare of leaves, is not much in the way of cover. Perhaps he's an introvert? Or is he standing guard?

All the while they are careful about me, the one who puts out the food.  And they know I do. They watch me do it from nearby trees.  That first winter if I slept in a Mourning Dove would peck at my window, tap tap, tap tap. It worked, but they stopped doing it the second winter. Perhaps because last winter was so devoid of snow they didn't need the feeder.  These days the birds simply come to the fire escape in the morning and chat until I put out the food.  It's like having a very popular coffee spot and going in every morning to open-up with the clientele already outside having their conversations.  Maybe humans don't do that anymore. Maybe they are all on their phones and tablets.  But the birds do it.  They chat, they problem solve together, they warn each other of danger, they have each other's back - even if some of them will totally throw another bird's eggs out of a nest.  Me, they are not so sure about, and I cannot blame them. I have trouble trusting humans, too.