A chickadee darts toward my face.
With its black face mask,
it could be a Lone Ranger of the avian world.

I fall back.
The bird veers away.
No, not a Lone Ranger,
but a spoiled child saying
“Feed me now!”

I’ve been slathering peanut butter on
corn for the squirrels.
The chickadees caught on.
Now they peck at cobs more often
than their rodent teachers.

I’m happy watching them eat.