When I first arrived back in Massachusetts, the major change to our family yard was the installation of two large posts and five or six bird-feeders. They, along with the chain-link fence and huge sugar maple on the yard's edge, insured the yard was always filled with wild-life. (Not including our familia...) Squirrels from the entire neighborhood also joined the fun--announcing to the chipmunks, skunks, possums and raccoons that there was a free lunch at the Minns' house.
Daily, upon arriving back from the hospital, Ann, in her scrubs, would refill the feeders, making sure to scatter the seed on the ground so no one was left hungry. Maeve would dutifully follow her "Mother's" footsteps, only pausing to pull a sunflower seed or two from her paws. The birds knew when Ann's jeep would arrive. They would mass, ala Alfred Hitchcock, and begin edgily dive bombing each other. Even the squirrels would shoot "chattergrams" up and down the street, vying, with their feathered friends, for new grub.
This cost Ann literally hundreds of dollars a month, but, as with other sides of her character, she was unrelenting. "Everybody's got to eat..." she'd mutter, cigarette hanging from her bottom lip.
The birds still wait for her, though, now, she spends half her time at her new house, just on the town line. The two big bird feeding posts were rotting, so , when she moved, Kevin took them down. Dad tamped the earth to a more flat line--almost falling, yet again--in the process.
"It's mostly bird seed!" he announces, amazed at the spongey pile.
Now, there is still the birdbath and scattered food for the hordes put out a few times a week, but no feeders.
"We habituated them, now we have a responsibility to feed them through the winter!" Ann grumbles.
I guess the birds are happy to hear this because none of them have left.
Ann has installed feeders in the huge pine tree next to the swimming pool at the new house. In addition, there is a koi pond and frogs and fish to feed. A butterfly bush rounds out the visitors on the side yard. The crab apple and choke cherry trees lining the border, on the edge of the woods, brings the mammals out. When Maeve comes for a visit, she has to be on a leash at all times. Too many "intruders" to chase into the road. Too much accidental "doom" circling the place.
Yesterday, four ravens strutted their stuff under the pines.
Pheasants, in full dress, paraded out of the boggy woods, seeking refuge from the hunters from the Fish and Gun club, a half-mile away.
"If Kevin shoots anything in my yard I won't forgive him!" Ann grumbles, blowing smoke over the deck railing.
I watch a wild turkey call his flock to the edge of the grass.(He doesn't realize it is already November.) Hawks skitter and fall from high above us.A titmouse lands a few feet away, puffed up and busy. Something the size of a dove, moves in the tree...
"Time to get the winter seed from the store," Ann hugs her nightgown around her middle; pads back inside, trailing blue smoke.
Maeve follows.
Everywhere, the birds tweet their good luck calls.
Daily, upon arriving back from the hospital, Ann, in her scrubs, would refill the feeders, making sure to scatter the seed on the ground so no one was left hungry. Maeve would dutifully follow her "Mother's" footsteps, only pausing to pull a sunflower seed or two from her paws. The birds knew when Ann's jeep would arrive. They would mass, ala Alfred Hitchcock, and begin edgily dive bombing each other. Even the squirrels would shoot "chattergrams" up and down the street, vying, with their feathered friends, for new grub.
This cost Ann literally hundreds of dollars a month, but, as with other sides of her character, she was unrelenting. "Everybody's got to eat..." she'd mutter, cigarette hanging from her bottom lip.
The birds still wait for her, though, now, she spends half her time at her new house, just on the town line. The two big bird feeding posts were rotting, so , when she moved, Kevin took them down. Dad tamped the earth to a more flat line--almost falling, yet again--in the process.
"It's mostly bird seed!" he announces, amazed at the spongey pile.
Now, there is still the birdbath and scattered food for the hordes put out a few times a week, but no feeders.
"We habituated them, now we have a responsibility to feed them through the winter!" Ann grumbles.
I guess the birds are happy to hear this because none of them have left.
Ann has installed feeders in the huge pine tree next to the swimming pool at the new house. In addition, there is a koi pond and frogs and fish to feed. A butterfly bush rounds out the visitors on the side yard. The crab apple and choke cherry trees lining the border, on the edge of the woods, brings the mammals out. When Maeve comes for a visit, she has to be on a leash at all times. Too many "intruders" to chase into the road. Too much accidental "doom" circling the place.
Yesterday, four ravens strutted their stuff under the pines.
Pheasants, in full dress, paraded out of the boggy woods, seeking refuge from the hunters from the Fish and Gun club, a half-mile away.
"If Kevin shoots anything in my yard I won't forgive him!" Ann grumbles, blowing smoke over the deck railing.
I watch a wild turkey call his flock to the edge of the grass.(He doesn't realize it is already November.) Hawks skitter and fall from high above us.A titmouse lands a few feet away, puffed up and busy. Something the size of a dove, moves in the tree...
"Time to get the winter seed from the store," Ann hugs her nightgown around her middle; pads back inside, trailing blue smoke.
Maeve follows.
Everywhere, the birds tweet their good luck calls.
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