Winter Wonders

Is there anything more interesting than watching a hungry squirrel dig for food in the snow on a winter's day?  To tunnel so deep that it looks like a mound of snow has suddenly come to life.  Or to watch as the birds, that have decided to stay the winter, peck, peck, peck through the snow for buried seeds.  

 

I am thrilled as I spot a cardinal at the feeder.  I know that if I am patient enough, I will be graced with the presence of her mate.  They seem to know that their coloring makes them stand out.  Most often, I will catch them at the feeders at dusk.  Blue jays bully their way through the smaller birds, snatching a few sunflower seeds as the fly off to a nearby tree.  They try to chase away any other jays nearby, then settle down to wait.  It seems they enjoy waiting for a crowd to gather so they can push their way through again.

I am bundled up against the cold, sitting on a stool outside after just putting out the food for my feathered friends.  I sit and watch and listen.  It does not take long before birds flutter by to look me over.  They call to each other and the squirrels chatter, telling those in hiding that it's okay to come out.  Perhaps they recognize me now.  I try to mimic the bird sounds.  They must think me some very large bird with a defective call.  I'm sure they find me strange. 

My goal this winter is to get one of them to eat from my hand. I'm not particular at this point as to which gets there first. I have quite a selection that come to feed and any one of them would be a thrill.  The black capped chickadees and the goldfinch seem to be the bravest, or perhaps the hungriest.  They have already come within two feet of me when I am putting out food.  They chatter as if to say, "What took you so long?"

The sunflower seeds I've grown and the thistle and weed seeds I have gathered this autumn are long gone.  Any seeds from plants grown in the garden are long gone.  I watch squirrels, who have already eaten their fill, try desperately to drag whole ears of dried corn home for dinner or perhaps a midnight snack.  What do you think it is they say to the Mrs. when they bring home such a prize? 

Snow continues to fall and has covered the seed I have thrown on the ground.  Mourning doves and other ground feeders are reluctant to search for seed with me so near.  I decide to leave them to feed in peace.  Perhaps later, or maybe tomorrow, one of these creatures will realize I mean them no harm and will eat from my hand. 

 

Diann Metzkow