The birds have arrived. I watched most of the day Tuesday, staring
out the window during calls, mid email.
Has anyone noticed? The second
full day with this new apparatus came and went without a single visitor. I showered the ground with seeds and
sprinkled some on the railing. It made
no difference. There were plenty of birds
off in the cedars, and the brush, fifty-feet from the house. But no one was interested in my new feeder.
I looked up midday
and saw a sparrow standing on the railing.
He was eyeing the feeder. stopped what I was doing to eye him. He stared for a while longer and then darted
off, but soon he and another finch-like bird with a chest were back. One and then the other fluttered at the feeder
base and then made off with seeds. They
returned a number of times as did another sparrow-seeming critter with a blue
chest. Very glad to welcome them
all.
Last month, going
through books in the basement I came across a North American Field Guide to Birds. I brought it out with my stepdad the ornithologist
and mentioning how glad I was to have found it.
And he mentioned it should prove very useful were I to venture over the
Continental Divide, in the Rockies and do some birding in the western
watershed. I’d found the guide to
western birds which someone, perhaps he, likely gave me when we'd moved to San
Francisco back in 2000.
Prokofiev
today. “Sonata for Violin and Piano No.
1 in F Minor,” (It’s rather tedious writing out the names to classical songs,) comes
along for the ride up towards Rosendale.
When I get to approach the bridge, where I’d intended to stop, an older
guy with long hair passes me going the other direction and he’s also cranking
something vaguely piano-sonata-esque on his phone. I wonder if he was processing my tunes as
well. There are two older guys sitting
on the bridge starting off into space. Their
repose will ruin mine and so I bike on and take a left on Route 7 and go by a
few of the different Riverside homes and imagine who lives inside them.
Thursday 10/24/19
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