3:55 p.m.
I’m sitting on the patio with a bag of Mango & Ginger Go Nuts from Trader Joe’s, a water bottle, the New York Times, some freezer-burned organic whole wheat bread and a plastic container filled with peanuts.
My plan is to drink and read until some animals reveal themselves to me. The bread is for the sparrows. The peanuts for the squirrels. Before I sat down, I impaled a new, fully kerneled cob on the screw in the Squirrel Cafe.
4:00
A couple of bird silhouettes have crossed the patio, but none have stopped the explore the bread that I tore into pieces, then ground under my plastic sandal. I can hear sparrows chirping.
4:03
My first bird sighting. A chickadee perching briefly on the dangling corn cob to peck at traces of peanut butter. It’s here. Then gone. Chickadees are the boldest backyard birds. The least scared by people.
Through the lacy veil of my arborvitae hedge, I see a sparrow alight on my neighbors’ lawn. Then another visits their feeder, even closer to my hedge.
4:07
A crow sweeps down low over the hedge and into the yard next door. Crows have been visiting more frequently since I’m feeding corn to the squirrels more regularly. They pick at the empty shells of the individual niblets.
A grackle perches in the arborvitae, then slides down the branch and then onto the edge of one of three aluminum foil water containers that lie side by side. She’s walking the rims, then toddling onto the patio, then back on the containers. Then away.
A handful of sparrows seem emboldened by the grackle to alight within the hedge.
Won’t anyone brave the patio to feast on the bread I’ve donated?
No.
But a sparrow lands on the foil pan and dips his head in to drink. Another chickadees feeds on the corn.
4:15
Chickadee back on corn. One sparrow drinking.
4:20
Sparrows fly north. More fly north. Then some fly south. More north. There’s a standard flight path that cuts diagonally across my yard. From the Squirrel Palace in one corner toward the bird feeders hanging outside my kitchen window. Yes, it seems to be all about food.
A grackle steps on my patio from the lawn. Takes a drink. Walks farther out onto the patio.
A sparrow dips low over the patio.
The grackle nears a scrap of bread. Then hops away. Then back. Then away, squawking. Is he annoyed by the blue jay that has landed in my Norway maple?
The grackle hops over my foil pans. Back into my neighbor’s yard.
No birds in front of me, but intense chirping surrounds me.
I’d thought the grackle was going to break the eating ban.
A cardinal lands halfway up the hedge from the water containers. Ruffles her feathers. Looks around. Flies to the right. Then left up into the Norway maple, to one branch, then another. I lose sight of her.
The chickadee picks on the corn.
Another sparrow lands behind the water containers, dips his beak in to drink. Looks around. Drinks again. A second sparrow lands in the bushes. The first sparrow flies to her. They touch. More sparrows land in the bushes. Then flit away.
4:27
A twig drops from the maple tree onto the patio. A leaf floats down slowly.
Isn’t anybody besides the chickadee hungry? Or am I that scary to them? I’m not even sitting on the patio. I’ve moved onto the driveway to escape the sun falling to the west.
A half dozen sparrows flit toward my neighbor’s cherry tree, and land. Her sons bought her that tree when they were children. Now they’re adults, one having serving in Afghanistan or Iraq or both conflicts. The tree is almost 20 feet tall.
Fluttering alerts me to sparrows settling on the fence behind me. They’re near the “squirrel seed” container, a heavy-duty plastic that the squirrels have bitten into in their quest to reach the hulled sunflower seeds stored within. Iggy has to flatten empty food cans and tack them inside the cover to protect the holes.
A mourning dove cries like an owl.
4:37
A squirrel places his paws on a water container, looks around then heads off toward the Squirrel Palace, beyond my line of sight. Hey, pal, I don’t think there are any seeds left over there.
A chickadee picks at the corncob.
4:40
A chickadee lands atop the unbuttered, but fully kerneled cob at the Squirrel Cafe. She picks repeatedly at the top of the cob, into its core. Is there something nutritious inside? There must be, because when she leaves, another chickadee replaces her.
A squirrel climbs up and down the hedge behind the shepherd’s hook from which dangles the peanut-buttered corn cob. Probably looking to see if I’ve left a peanut atop the hook. Nothing there, so he moves on.
4:44
Aha!
A brave sparrow ventures onto the patio, grabs a crumb, and flies immediately to safety.
Here it comes again, nabbing a large chunk before flying farther away.
Another sparrow lands atop the shepherd’s hook. Looks around. Wimps out by flying away.
4:46
Okay, I’m giong to pick up the newspaper and read it. Maybe that’ll tempt the sparrows and squirrels to partake of the crumbs and peanuts.
5:10
No action. I go inside.
5:15
Fifteen sparrows and one grackle feast on bread crumbs. In fact, there are almost no crumbs left. I feel sorry for them, so I disturb them briefly to scatter and break up four more pieces of bread.
5:20
From behind the back door, I see 28 sparrows feeding on bread. A woodpecker is checking out the corn cob at the Squirrel Cafe.
5:35
The sparrows are still eating bread. A squirrel is seated primly on the Squirrel Cafe chair, eating corn.