The house I bought in 2021, while I was separated from my husband, is very much the kind of house I always wanted, with some exceptions. The kitchen is a bit cramped and the back deck is not covered or screened in, but these are minor inconveniences. What I do like is that the central point is the spacious and welcoming dining room, and that the house can be divided into four parts and even separated by doors, or five if the deck is counted. These four are the bedrooms/bathrooms area, the “parlor” and entrance hall, the dining room and kitchen, and the 25 X 25 foot family room. Yes, it is huge room and it is my space, where I study, nap, watch television, write, and sew. By my makeshift desk, really an old table bought at a yard sale, in this family room is a large window, five by five feet, through which I can watch birds gather at the two feeders on the other side of the deck.
Now that I am retired, I have found that the best part of this new phase is the slowly paced morning four times a week. One day I go to church, and the other two, Monday and Friday, I leave at 7:00 to watch my granddaughter in the town twelve miles away. That is “as the crow flies” distance; it takes twenty-five to thirty-minutes to drive there. Watching the birds is an attraction on the non-committed mornings, especially in the summer with its early morning sunlight.
The house has many windows; unfortunately the former owners did not invest in screens for most of them, something I have yet to address. I recently spent $5800 on tree removal and much more on repairs to the other house I own (with my husband), so screens are not as much a priority now. (This house also needs electrical work.) A window of the same size as that in the family room takes up a wall of the dining room, and it too looks out on the deck. Sunlight abounds in the house; there is a bay window in the parlor, creating a solarium for plants.
Some mornings, when it is not as muggy as it has been the last two weeks, I sit outside at the covered table the old owners left me. I turn on the Cornell Ornithology Lab app to see which bird calls it catches and names. That always reveals a surprise, a new “voice,” because I use it inconsistently and infrequently. An everyday use would yield few differences in named birds.
Robins and cardinals stand out to me as they fly, flitter, fuss, perch, peck, and poke at the feeders and the ground. Especially the cardinals. And why not? Bright, flaming red, larger than the norm, and bullying, or it seems to me. Their presence on the feeders’ perches seems—and I can only say “seems”—to intimidate, chase away, or at least push the smaller birds either to the other side of the feeder or back to the trees. The robins are less aggressive and less eye-catching, with their breast of red versus the totality of scarlet on their male cardinals. Of course, the male cardinals tumble with each other off the feeder, or fling themselves at each other until one gives way to the dominance of the others. Are they protecting their mates and offspring, or simply responding to the arousing color?
I have known I had a woodpecker nearby with a strong and annoying work ethic since I moved here five years ago. He has shown up at the feeders this week; perhaps the heat is why. He is large, the size of a turkey vulture it seems in comparison to the wrens and nut hatches. His audible presence is now visible. I’ve heard his jack-hammering many mornings, but I recently changed bedrooms and had to cut down the two massive trees outside that room’s window. I believe that sent him to other carpentry specimens nearby, as I don’t hear him now. I miss his staccato exploration.
I have had to remove more than 25 trees from this property, an expensive project. They were either too high, too likely to fall into a neighbor’s property, or dead and rotting. The neighbors are glad for my investment, close to $25,000, but it has diminished the habitat for birds. The squirrel population has not seemed to suffer.
Last week or so a pine warbler—dusty but bright yellow and black—became disoriented and fluttered violently against the dining room window. I was enthralled by it for two reasons. I had never seen one in the backyard (and haven’t since), and actually couldn’t remember seeing one elsewhere. But the main reason was that I had just read an essay by a female theologian who became a “birder” because of her sudden encounter with one. She herself had never seen one before in nature and took it to be a rare, exotic bird. Some research showed her they are common. That reminds me of medical professionals saying a procedure you are facing is “routine.” Well, not to me! Routine, common, everyday are matters of perspective. I was as pleased to have the same sighting as the author. I’m not ready to become a “birder” traipsing through marshes for a rare event, but one never knows.
So, cardinals, robins, my woodpecker neighbor, the pine warbler and more recently, an American goldfinch. In my front yard I often see a family of bluebirds, my favorite beside purple martins. For some reason, I’ve concluded the bluebirds do not like my feeders or brand of black sunflower seeds, as I have yet to see a bluebird in the backyard. I have seen a couple of bluejays, but the cardinals seem to have convinced them that this plot of land is not for them.
Of course, the squirrels want the seed, but my dog Butter needs only to hear the word “squirrel” to burst through the doggy door and send every animal back to the trees. He trees the squirrels, either unable to unmotivated to ever catch one.
According to the Cornell Lab app, I also have guests of these species in addition to the ones mentioned. I don’t guarantee they all came to my yard; the app just records their calls in the vicinity.
Eastern Phoebe
Tufted Titmouse (a good name for a children’s book character)
Chipping Sparrow
Brown Thrasher
White-throated Sparrow
Carolina Wren
Song Sparrow
American Crow (many, many of these)
House finch (which I have mistaken for female cardinals)
These were from a December 26 session.
Cedar Waxwing
Northern Mockingbird
European Starling
House Sparrow
Chimney Swift
Gray Catbird
Northern House Wren
Eastern Wood Pewee
Eastern Towhee
(from a session in May)
Red-eyed Vireo
Indigo Bunting (which I have missed but would have mistaken for a bluebird anyway if I glimpsed it)
Carolina Chickadee
White-eyed Vireo
(from a morning in April)
Common Grackle
Red-winged Blackbird
Brown-headed Cowbird
Blue-Gray Gnatcatcher
(February listen)
Canada Goose
Downy Woodpecker
Red-belled Woodpecker
Wood Thrush
Wild Turkey
Yellow-breasted Chat
Mourning Dove
(last April)
_____
These are sounds picked up in my backyard in Northwest Georgia, less than twenty miles south of the Tennessee border. The Goose’s appearance surprises me because of the time of year. They are populous in the fall, flying south in their military formation, usually stopping by water. Wild Turkey? Well, maybe. They are prevalent in the area but I wouldn’t think to see them in a town or suburb. On the other hand, I have seen deer in my yard, as well as possum, armadillo, fox, ground squirrels as they are called here, and ground hogs. Coyote are common here but far from town. Someone years ago decided they would be neat to hunt and imported them from the west, and now they are a problem, and not just for pet owners. Last year my neighbors had a wild animal in their tree, possibly a young bear. Birds are less likely to find a way into the house or get into a tangle with a pet.
Right now a lone bird is feasting on the seeds in the feeder closer to my window. It is joined by another calm, nonagressive bird. My dogs seems to be under the weather due to relentless August heat and has not gulped down his breakfast by 10:20. He rests in the monkey grass and leaves the birds to their pecking. The birds I see are some type of wren or sparrow, I think. My first thought it, “they have no color,” but that is nonsense. They are mixtures of gray, brown, and black. The dullness to our eyes is their protective gift from God or from natural processes God used, but I am unsure where to draw that line.
Ah, a hummingbird, with its lustrous patch of green, swoops in, but it is bored with my flowers: the blooms on the hostia, the zinnias, marigolds, vinca, begonia, pansies, sunflowers, and singular daisy do not impress him. Perhaps those are not what its species needs. Well, I tried. (It came back later, or perhaps one of its colleagues.)
Like the hummingbird, my attention level is easily diminished.
We dismiss “colorless” birds. I realize this morning I make a big deal out of yellow, red, blue, purple, or greenish birds and ignore the actions of the dun ones. Yet what is the most unique quality of birds? Flight. What I should rather notice is how one small, gray-brown bird of undetermined name glides, descends from the hickory tree branch or roof and lands lightly on the small perch of the feeder. I’ve not seen one miss, fall, or crash. Then it can disappear in an effortless movement, either down to the garden to find more seed or back to seclusion and security of the lush trees that shade my yard.
The birds we overlook for their lack of bright colors are as marvelous and intricate in flight as the ones that catch our eyes. They fulfill their purpose in God’s world as well as the others do. Some migrate thousands of miles, a behavior of birds I simply do not understand. It seems such a waste of nature’s energy. If it’s about adaptation, couldn’t they just adapt to stay where they are, all year? But seasons wax and wane, and I think the migration is related to the diversity of birds. North Georgia’s winters are not severe, and at least the summers are wet; many of them could probably stay here but why not take up temporary residence at the Great Lakes or Florida? The truth that a bird of less than a pound can fly from the United States, even Canada, to South America, eating insects as it flies, bends my imagination into forms I cannot return it to.
The human eye looks for its own kind of beauty. Color, form, size, distinction, variety, and gives them a value they might not be worthy of. Is an American Goldfinch better for the environment than a Brown-headed Cowbird? Does a supermodel contribute more to humanity than a plain woman? Of course not, we would say, citing fairness and logic, except . . . that a supermodel might makes more money and that, of course, is always what matters most.
The colorful birds are colorful because of diet and adaptation and creation and as a way to protect their mate and children. Do they give any more to the wider world? Jesus does not seem to think so. “Consider the ravens, for they neither sow nor reap, which have neither storehouse nor barn; and God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds?” (Luke 12:24) “Are not five sparrows sold for two copper coins? And not one of them is forgotten before God. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.” (Luke 12:6-7) “Do not fear, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” (Luke 12:34)
We all have our part in God’s kingdom. Queen Esther had a palace full of influence and a book of the Bible named after her. But we all can hear her call: “Who knows whether you have come . . . for such a time as this?”
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