Trust

Day 267: And then there's this. The feeling I get when a wild bird places its trust in me is indescribable. I know I am privileged to have experienced it even once, but it repeats, and not with just one species. Chickadees can be coerced into taking food from a hand. Canada Jays ("Grey Jays") will land on your head if you're having a snack on the trail. There are some wild species who are more accepting of humans than others, but if you asked any birder or ornithologist, Evening Grosbeaks would not be on their list. Pine Siskins might be, but Purple Finches would not, and there's one female who watches very carefully from nearby when my little Grosbeak friend is having lunch: "If he can do it, maybe I could, too!" I can tell she's giving the idea serious consideration. As for the Grosbeak, he is completely comfortable. He didn't even mind that I had forgotten to turn off the flash on the little silver point-and-shoot I used to take these photos. And this is how I want my friends to remember me, if for nothing else: the woman who held birds.

A Friend of a Friend

Day 266: These are Rob's photos from a couple of days ago. Some of you may have already seen them on Facebook, but since I had not yet blogged them, and since there are updates, they are my choice for today's post.

Y'see, a couple of decades ago, I rehabbed an Evening Grosbeak with a broken wing. He was in my care for a month before I returned him to the wild. I dubbed him Friend (some of you may know where to find "Friend's Story" as an adjunct to 365Caws). After his release, he returned to visit me throughout the season and, I firmly believe, the following two or three years. Since then, I have always wondered if he somehow related the circumstances of our relationship to his offspring, because almost every year, there is at least one Grosbeak who shows no fear of me. That said, the closest I had ever gotten to any of them was when Follower tagged along behind me as I went out to the garage, and I had to shoo him gently out.

That's the backstory. This little feller had already eaten out of my hand while sitting on the bird feeder, but I wasn't expecting him to get ON the hand, and especially not in front of company. It's enormously difficult to document these events, and people tend not to believe you unless they have witnessed it. But there you have it: bird in the hand, worth way more than two in the bush! Today brought another surprise. When I went out to fill the feeders, my little pal hopped onto my forearm, walked down it, took a seed from my palm and then settled in on the edge of the feeder while eating from the handful I was holding. I think I've made a friend for life...a friend, perhaps, of Friend.

The Sorter

Day 52: This is the Sorter. The Sorter's job is to ensure that only the very best and heaviest seeds remain in my hand. His technique is simple. He buries his beak in the pile, gives a quick shake of his head, throwing all the lightweight seeds and chaff onto the ground below. Once the pile has been reduced to seven or eight prime candidates, he selects one and takes it to the contorted filbert, there to spend several minutes in enjoyment of his meal. By that time, a few of his companions will have come in to take their pick of the leftovers, and I will refill my hand so that the Sorter can continue his work. If he has not yet returned from his lunch break, Sorter #2 takes the next shift. There's no shortage of staff in this workplace!

Siskin In The Hand

Day 67: Nothing says "Thank you for the gift" quite as eloquently as the trust of a wild bird eating out of the palm of your hand. The Pine Siskins were back this morning, three dozen strong and again following a light snow. They swarmed me as I filled the feeders, so I went back inside and got my pocket Sony camera (as opposed to the big black, scary Canon) and had no problem lifting a Siskin up from the tray to sit on my fingers. I seldom use that little camera, and predictably, the battery went flat after only one snap. In the hopes that there was still some charge left on the spare, I gently reinstalled Siskin back on the feeder (he was not particularly inclined to leave the seeds in my palm) and made another trip into the house.

By the time I got back outside, all three feeders were full of Siskins. Again, there was no problem finding one who was willing to pose. In fact, there were a few disputes over prime position, and at one point, I had three in hand, one on my wrist and another trying to entangle itself in my hair. Then a Chickadee swooped in and the Siskins flew off. A few minutes later, they were back, coming at me from all sides. Now if these photos don't make you feel all warm and glowy with Christmas spirit, nothing will.

Worth More Than Two

Day 248: They say, "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." Nope, that's wrong. This right here is worth more than all the gold in Midas' hoard. It's taken several days and a lot of tries to accustom the Porch Parrots to the shiny silver point-and-shoot Sony in my right hand, can of seeds tucked under my arm on the same side. This fellow flew a couple of circles around me before deciding it was safe to land, but once there, he seemed content to stay. Eventually, I moved the hand closer to the feeder and nudged him gently onto the tray, then proceeded to lift the lid to fill it. Did he budge? Nope. Either he was very hungry (not likely!) or he feels confident that the Bringer of Food means no harm to Parrots. Even the sound of a sunflower seed cascade didn't bother him.