It's a warmish, sunny day in early February - the first weekend in February is often springlike, and the weather on the following weekend (my birthday weekend) is usually lousy, no matter where I live. So, live in the moment! And what a moment it is. I hung my bird feeder from a nail in the porch overhang and filled it with seeds that supposedly appeal to birds that inhabit the western United States. The dark-eyed juncos were the first to arrive, but they've been bullied about by a male-female pair of house finches that sit in the tray and hog all of the food. So, the juncos sit on the porch and rail just below the feeder and catch what the finches drop. A couple of red-breasted nuthatches visit often, as does a precocious red squirrel that teases Dear Kitty with a crazy dance and a tail flick, then jumps up and knocks the seeds from the feeder, since it can't climb up into the feeder. A male-female pair of northern flickers (probably the same ones who rap-tap-tapped on my house) hang out in the yard and have been hopping through the trees in the back all afternoon. Dear Kitty sits in the window and quietly titters at the birds and the squirrel, defending her territory. The California quail pop and squeak and coo in the bushes nearby.
As if the birds and squirrels weren't enough wildlife around here, the white-tailed deer visit frequently, the foxes prowl the neighborhood, often trotting down the street around dawn, and an owl hoot-hoots in the distance sometimes. Skunks have been seen, and more often smelled (and sometimes squished) along the main road. It feels like I live in Bambi's forest, all of these animals going about their business, trying to stay out of the way of humans but benefitting from our presence. All of these birds would likely find food somewhere, but they're certainly well-fed thanks to my feeder. By the end of the week, it's empty again.
