Oh, for the birds and bird feeders ~ November 23, 2000

David Heiller

Dutch Jones is ready for the birds. You may have read in her column last week, and I quote:

“Jerry took his big van and we went and got sunflower seeds for the birds. Have three big sacks and 50 pounds of cracked corn and thistle seed. Should last a couple months. I have yellow grosbeaks now and oh, I do like the chickadees. They are so fun to watch. Got the heater going in the water dish for them. It keeps the water from freezing. Old Pete was at the tallow today. Pete is my woodpecker.”

Noah with a chickadee perched on his hand.

Maybe Burlington Northern could build a spur line to her house east of Bruno, so they could deliver bird feed by the car load.

Oh for birds!

I have to tip my hat to Dutch and the many people like her.

I’ve known many people that have fed birds loyally. One of my favorites was my Grandma Schnick, who liked to set out things like orange rinds stuffed with tallow. She would read these bird food recipes in magazines like McCall’s and Better Homes and Gardens. They almost looked good enough for people to eat. I was a bit jealous of the birds, and the birds devoured her concoctions. Grandma is now making sure the angels get enough feed in Heaven, although they might not be as fond of her suet balls as the woodpeckers in Brownsville.

Another favorite bird feeder person is my mother, who draws in scores of birds with black sunflower seeds and cracked corn. She is rewarded with many beautiful birds, the king of which is the cardinal.

When I was a kid, bird feeding didn’t hold a lot of attraction for me, although I did like looking at the cardinals. Even the most hard-hearted codgers in town had to stop for a second to admire the beauty of a cardinal at the bird feeder. They are royalty.

I remember a brief period when I tried to shoot birds at the feeder. I would stalk them from behind the corner of the house. My BB gun wasn’t very accurate. It wasn’t a Daisy, so the birds didn’t have much to worry about.

Grandma Schnick didn’t have a problem with this, as long as I shot at sparrows, starlings, grackles, or blue jays. (Grandma was a bit of a racist when it came to birds.) But my sister, Mary Ellen, heard about this, and caught me in the act one day. She put an end to my feeder hunting with a few threats and a lecture on civil rights. Whatever she said reinforced a nagging feeling of guilt that was already in the back of my mind. It just wasn’t fair play to lure a bird to its death. I never did kill one.

In the summer, it's the  hummingbirds
that got our attention.

I’m not the only one to take a firearm to critters at a feeder. Dutch was telling me on Monday that she’s been trying to shoot a pesky red squirrel that chases away all the birds at her feeder. Dutch would also love to blast the crow that confuse her heated bird bath with a biffy. She can’t seem to hit her mark, but she keeps trying, and we are lucky to get to read about it. Watch out Dutch, you may be getting a visit from my sister, Mary Ellen.

Cindy and I like to feed birds. It’s a fun hobby. We try to keep it up all year, but it seems like we let it go for the summer. But now that we have snow—and it looks like the snow will stay—the feeders and suet containers are full again.

Is there anything prettier than a snowy day with birds at the feeder? It’s such a treat to watch them, to see all their shapes and sizes and colors and personalities. It’s like a soap opera. It seems like that’s been missing for the past couple years. We haven’t had enough snow. (Some people might cringe when they read that. This year is shaping up to be a normal one. I heard on the radio last week that we have already had more snow this year than all of last November and December combined.

So let it snow. Let the birds flock in. And let Dutch Jones and all the glorious little old ladies of the world keep the feeders full. Amen!