I Grew It Myself!

Day 312: I'm not the only horticulturist on the block. My kids have graduated from growing their own sunflowers to cultivating a plot of proso millet beneath one of the feeder trays. They're a bit lazy, though, leaving the weeding to me, but thanks to them, I shipped a specimen of Buffalobur off to the Burke Herbarium. It's not the only invasive which has come to me by way of birdseed, unfortunately. "Clean crops" are pretty much a thing of the past, what with supply running neck and neck with demand. That said, I am enjoying the birds' horticultural experiments. It will be interesting to see if the millet ripens.

Crow, Queen Of Weeds

Day 313: Just call me "Queen of Weeds." Yep, got another one. However, you might notice that these photos were shot using my velvet "studio background" as opposed to in a natural setting. Nevertheless, the plant was alive at the time. Punchline? It was in my yard. It popped up under one of my bird feeders one day, close enough to my flower bed that I only glanced at the foliage and assumed it to be a stray Cosmos, but as the plant grew taller and a few Cosmos volunteers started appearing in the garden, I was less convinced. I decided I'd let it stay until I could identify it, thinking to do so from its flowers. At three feet tall (still paralleling the Cosmos), cone-shaped heads began to form. "Nope, that is definitely not a Cosmos," said I, and set to work to put a name on it. As luck would have it, it turned out to be Common Ragweed (Ambrosia artemisiifolia), a weed whose pollen causes allergic reactions in a large number of people. I suspect that it was inadvertently included in commercial bird seed and subsequently rejected by a discriminating diner. And to think I'd been so tenderly cultivating it! At least I managed to dig it out before it bloomed and set seed.

Siskin Dear

Day 29: When lockdown mandates were relaxed a few months ago, Washington residents were advised to restrict their contacts to a small handful of friends. Mine included a dozen or so Chickadees (mostly Chestnut-Backed), but I've expanded my list to include Siskin Dear as of yesterday. Pine Siskins and Chickadees generally avoid each other, and I begin to understand why. Siskin Dear has made it abundantly clear that he is not to be budged from the handful of seed until he's done with his meal. The 'dee-dees hover like hummingbirds an inch or two away from my palm, but Siskin Dear doesn't bat an eye. One desperate 'dee landed on the nearly empty can of seed tucked under my other arm, holding tightly to the rim in order to dip inside for a seed. During one feeding, Siskin Dear remained on my hand for a full five minutes except for a ten-second flutter as my neighbour drove out, and I would swear that tiny little bird packed away at least 100 seeds without a noticeable bulge appearing in his crop. Meanwhile, our surroundings were filled with the sound of loudly expressed Chickadee cuss-words, and several beat their wings through my hair in an effort to draw my attention to them. This is hardly the first Siskin to perch on my hand, but with each one, I feel privileged in the experience.

Grow Your Own

 Day 349: Every year, my little avian friends try their beaks at raising a crop of birdseed in my flower beds. The issue is proximity to the feeders. As they scatter seed, some of it inevitably makes its way into the garden, and as casual as I am about weeding, pulling only the most obvious offenders after the first few serious eradications have been performed, something nearly always escapes my watchful eye. In fact, while in the living room yesterday, I noticed a suspicious-looking plant which had come up taller than the window sill, i.e., topping three feet in height. I went out for a closer look and although I'm not positive, it looked to me like a Burdock, and most undesirable. The seed likely had been transported on my boots after a patrol of my Land Trust beat in Ohop Valley where it is prevalent. Hitching a ride is a favorite tactic of invasives. In any event, I uprooted it and then bent to pull some of the "corn" sown by the birds. There, amid other greenery, were several sprays of millet almost at maturity. I am betting that Farmer Jay is keeping a close eye on his crop, anxiously awaiting the day when those tiny seeds are perfect for harvest. Perhaps if I leave them for his enjoyment, he'll leave a few grapes on the vine for me.