Showing posts with label feeding station. Show all posts
Showing posts with label feeding station. Show all posts

Sunday, January 12, 2020

Friends At Breakfast


Day 91: After being given a clean bill of health from my oral surgeon last Thursday, I decided it was time to have my Christmas dinner. I'd bought a nice little turkey in early December, but of course the tooth situation had put my high-flown plans on hold: no turkey, no Brussels sprouts, no cranberry-horseradish sauce despite the fact that I wasn't in any particular pain. So, Friday morning found the turkey still somewhat frozen, so a soak in the sink finished the thawing process and by a little after noon, I had it in the oven. Now it must be explained that my favourite part of the turkey is the soup I make from the carcase. I'm not quite to that point yet (it was a 12-pounder, after all), but part of the bargain is that I share the stuffing and giblets with my friends. This is even more important now that there's some snow on the ground. These two crows seem to be a couple. They stay close to one another, whether on the ground or sitting on the fence. They engage in allopreening and intimate beak contact, both typical of a newly-formed bond. Behaviour would indicate that the one in the foreground of this photo is the female, although it usually takes me a few minutes to sort out who's who when they first land.

Saturday, July 11, 2015

Packing Expert

Day 271: I took advantage of cooler weather to sit outside with friends while they had lunch today and couldn't help but admire their skills at packing for future picnics. All guests but one filled their sub-lingual pouches to capacity and then deftly collected four or five more round pieces of dog food until their beaks were stuffed as well. The remaining visitor (nicknamed Timid) approached the feeding station with trepidation, landing only long enough to make a quick thrust at a piece of food, knocking it to the ground to be retrieved on the second try. I suspect Timid is new this year and hasn't learned the ropes. On the other hand, Sweetheart sits on the fence patiently, waiting for me to walk away. When I caw softly to her, she responds with the same syllables, acknowledging me in the same tone.