Fine Feathered Friends

This morning turned out to be a banner bird-watching day, attracting the largest and smallest of foragers of the season.

I had already moved upstairs to type a blog on the meaning of “eating like a bird,” when I glanced down from a window and saw two large wild turkeys pecking away at the watery ground under the bird feeders. It was their second visit in less than a week, only last time three turkeys strutted around the yard. We’re only two blocks from Saxon Woods Park, so it’s not too surprising when wildlife, including deer and a coyote, frequent the neighborhood (perhaps an unexpected and ultimately unfortunate encounter with a coyote explains why only two turkeys visited today).

It’s been several years since turkeys made our homeland part of their stomping ground. Once I came home to find two turkeys roosting on Gilda’s car in our open garage.

The turkeys are not majestic. We’re fortunate Ben Franklin did not get his way in wanting to designate the wild turkey as our national bird. Turkeys are rather gangly and awkward looking, with spindly long legs. Their necks are long and vulture-like, their heads small and ghoulish. They don’t scare too easily, but when they wandered over to a neighbor’s yard to check out the tree sprayers who had just arrived they literally flew away at alarming speed, clear across our yard and over a 10-foot fence, leaving a single brown feather in their wake.

Just prior to their hasty departure I stepped outside to observe them more closely. I was distracted by a blur to my right. It was an aquamarine hummingbird enjoying Gilda’s purple flowers. I had given up on seeing any hummingbirds this season. Last year was a bust, so I didn’t bother to put out any nectar to attract them during their northern migration. Encouraged, I set up a temporary drinking stand. Here’s hoping they get the message the bar is open.

I always thought telling someone he or she ate like a bird meant they took small bites or small portions. To be sure, the wild birds in our yard prefer tidbits to tonnage. And they self-police their consumption, nibbling at the seed for a few swallows then flying off for a digestive respite before returning for more.

But what you also notice is how territorial many of them are. They are selfish. They don’t want to share. Others are passive beyond comprehension.

The red-bellied woodpecker is particularly aggressive protecting solo dining privileges, sticking his beak out to ward off any intruders, even black grackles almost double in size. The grackles, themselves, are no slouches when it comes to feasting alone. Blue jays are combative as well. Cardinals prefer a wait and see approach. They hardly ever sit down for a meal. Yet they look plumper than most other birds. The finches calmly wait their turn, perching nearby until the larger birds take a break. Then they swoop in for a short snack.


More Neighborhood News: Rain seemingly without end is turning part of our yard into a rice patty. Another area is a mushroom garden, though our fungi are small compared to the Miracle-Gro size of our next door neighbor. His are about six inches in diameter. Truly gargantuan.

Mushrooms are the lesser of two evils inhabiting our cul-de-sac. The local paper Tuesday reported a 17-year-old boy from down the block was one of three teenagers arrested for allegedly stealing property from cars around town. Add a possible jailbird to the denizens of the neighborhood.