Snowjays

Day 46: A light snow fell overnight, and the birds roused early for breakfast. Steller's Jays, Towhees, Juncoes, Chickadees and those brave Anna's Hummingbirds who overwinter here now were all out at first light to check the assorted feeding stations. The suet feeder predictably drew the greatest number of patrons, with even the Juncoes changing their diets to a high-fat regime. Every calorie counts on mornings like this, and I know that if I'm tardy with serving seconds, someone is bound to knock on the window to remind me. Not all my "yard birds" are clever enough to equate the person behind the glass with food, but the Chickadees most certainly know, and so do the hummers. Is there telepathy at work when I can sense a hummingbird staring at the back of my head? Having lived around a number of different non-human species throughout my life, I am convinced it's so. In fact, I think they sometimes wonder why they're not getting through to people, humans having lost the ability to project their thoughts in communication. We've stepped too far away from Nature to use the gift which birds and cats employ.