Day 277: Let me say this: I enjoy having followers as much as the next person, but this is getting out of hand. Day before yesterday, I had just gone out the back door to take down the swallow houses when a friend showed up with a bag of fresh produce from a local organic grower. I stopped what I was doing to chat with her, and then when she left, I set the bag on the back step and went about my intended task. When I went back in the house, I grabbed the bag and stuffed it in the fridge and then stepped over to the sink to wash my hands. Before I could turn on the water, a young Grosbeak landed in the window...on the INSIDE. As I wrapped my hands around the poor terrified thing, s/he took hold of my finger in a gentle, not painful bite (and trust me, Grosbeaks can bite hard with those big bills). I released the bird outdoors where it flew off immediately. How it got in is a mystery. I had not left the door open, nor had it flown out of the veggie bag. That leaves only two solutions: it was either on my head and I didn't notice, or it flew/walked in when I came back inside, following me as some of them do, knowing that I am the Bringer of Food.
I'm usually able to identify at least a few individuals among the youngsters each year based on how far their plumage has developed. As I picked my follower up to release him/her, I noticed a broader than usual yellow patch on the right wing and a few tufts of down on the top of the head. The yellow patch didn't register in my mind at first, so I was referring to the bird in the feminine based on the grey colouration. Later, I realized that this was a fledgling male whose colour was just beginning to develop.
Later that same day, I was heartened to see the same bird being fed by its mother. That behaviour told me that it was too young to have been one of the ones I've hand-fed, and therefore it couldn't have imprinted on me. However, an hour or so later, I found it sitting on the step, perhaps waiting for the door into another world to open again. I got down on my hands and knees to open the door, ready to make a grab if my new friend walked inside. I needn't have worried. The door squeaked in its frame and my Follower flew off.
I saw Follower many times yesterday, eating from spilled seed on the ground or tagging after a male who must be Daddy, begging to be fed. But when I went to fill the feeders in the late afternoon, there he was, perched on top of the heat pump housing beside the back door, looking longingly (or so I imagined) at the magic door to Bringer of Food's cozy nest. It's nice to feel appreciated.
