Porch Parrots!

Day 174: They're here! Boys and girls both! The Evening Grosbeaks have arrived! Okay, I tell this story every year, but some of my newer readers may have missed the explanation of how Coccothraustes vespertinus came to be called "Porch Parrots" in my household, so here it comes again.

Back when my late husband and I were both much, much younger, we decided to hike the Wonderland Trail, a 90-plus mile circuit around Mount Rainier. We began our trek at the end of the Westside Road (the true end, not today's truncated version) and when we got around to the east side of the Mountain and a little further than halfway on our 12-day journey, we set up camp in a lovely spot called Summerland. As I was setting up the tent, Bruce went out to the creek for water, but came back, excited and beckoning me to "Come quick! I've got a whole tree full of parrots!" Now it must be said that Bruce did know they weren't actually parrots. He wasn't much of a birder, but since we had a parrot at home, the association established by the Grosbeaks' large green bills was only natural. I identified them for him, and his subsequent remark was predictable: "Yeah, those beaks really are gross!"

Like I said, we were much younger in those days, so much younger, in fact, that Mount St. Helens was still a perfect cone at 9677' high. That changed on May 18, 1980, and so did the migratory flight pattern for the Evening Grosbeaks who were passing by at that very moment. Many of those who survived the blast arrived on our doorstep a few days later, burned, sick, their eyes crusted from irritation by the ash and confused by the disruption of their migration. That said, they found our porch window-box feeding station with its unlimited supply of black-oil sunflower seed and decided it was a good place to recover. Dozens of birds died that first season, but our porch went on Coccothraustes' short list for future visits, so much so that we went through over 800 pounds of black-oil seed almost every subsequent summer. Bruce's "parrots" had found a new home on our porch, and "Porch Parrot" was incorporated into the family lexicon.

When Bruce and I split up and went our separate ways, keeping of the Porch Parrots was transferred to one of our old neighbours who to this day, gives reports of their activities in her Christmas letter. I now have my own flock here (sunflower seeds are in the budget, oftentimes at the expense of things like milk and meat), and I am always, always, always thrilled when my avian guests return.