Monday, 13 July 2015

Breakfast with the Birds

After several sunny days, Monday began with heavy rain. When the clouds cleared,  a juvenile Magpie landed in the garden. He wasted no time in voicing his displeasure at my tardiness in setting out the breakfast buffet. 

The Magpie is a bold and talkative bird, but this little fellow is more vocal than most. Recently fledged, he possesses the bolshie entitlement of a teenager, and will not hesitate in chasing away other Magpies from the table. With the Pigeons his manners improve and he kicks his feet and busies himself with smaller morsels until he musters the courage to take his turn.  This morning, though, he is first to the garden and is alone. Squawking and grumbling loudly.

When I open the back door he squeaks off up to the roof. I come outside and begin the daily routine of checking the hanging feeders, cleaning up the bird tables and filling the birdbath with fresh water. I set out fresh seeds and scraps and retreat.

The House Sparrows are hungry too, and as soon as I return to the kitchen they arrive in a flurry. A family group of a dozen arrive on the wall. From there they dive bomb down to the ground feeder in twos and threes. They chatter and cheep as they hop and flutter from plant pot to table to chair to hanging feeder to bird bath. There are two little fledglings who sit on the wall waiting for their father to feed them. They shuffle impatiently and ruffle their feathers against the breeze.

When all have had their fill and have washed behind their ears, they return to the treetops and sing their familiar joyful song.

I delight in this spectacle. Watching the feathered visitors to my garden never ceases to make me smile. 

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