My husband and I have been feeding birds for several years after moving into our house on Long Island. It was all started with an attractive wooden bird feeder that I once spotted, like a small house for birds. We bought it and hang it on a tree branch at our backyard, meters away from our rear patio door. Due to our busy schedule in past years, we didn’t really pay attention to the birds coming and going, but dutifully refilled birdseed from time to time. They were gone really quickly.
After I quitted my job last year, I spent most of the day sitting at my dining table reading, studying online courses, contemplating just by myself. Sun came up and down outside the window. Seasons passed by quietly. An early spring day this year, my husband moved the bird feeder from the backyard and onto the Japanese maple tree outside our dining room next to the window. The very next day, different kinds of birds came to enjoy their meals. It was such a novelty for me. Whenever they came, I stopped and started observing them with excitement. Gradually, I was able to identify them by their songs; I even realized that birds have distinct personalities.
Northern cardinals are my favorite. The male cardinal is extremely eye-catching with bright red feathers all over its body except its face and neck which are in black like a mask. The first time I saw it close-up, I couldn’t help but think of the facial design of Peking opera. When it stands at a twig high up, its burning red creates a pretty stunning view against the blue sky. Cardinals are also well-mannered and shy. They feed themselves only when others finished.
Blue jays are the prettiest. I am fascinated by the mosaic-like pattern on its wings and tail in neon blue, dark blue and white. Isn’t it nature’s masterpiece? I can wear a dress with patterns just like that. Now I understand where fashion designers’ inspirations come from. Though extremely pretty, blue jays can be impolite, clumsy and dramatic. It always makes a big scene with loud calls to scare away other birds. While others make room for it, it doesn’t know how to land on the narrow platform of the bird feeder. I chuckled whenever I saw it fumble around and eventually pick up scattered birdseed on the ground.
Mourning doves are weirdos. They have small heads with black eyes which make me think of baby ducks. I was wakened by its mournful songs quite often in the morning. I speculated there was a sad story to be told, and I was eager to hear all about it. I laughed whenever my mom mimicked its songs coo-woo-woo-woo with the following question – “What on earth are you so sad? Can we talk about it?” One day I was sitting at the dining table, as usual. I glanced a dark shade above the corner of the window. I fixed my eyes in that direction. After a while, a mourning dove stuck its head from the roof looking at me like a spy but quickly disappeared when it caught my eyes. It gave me shivers.
Over time, my enthusiasm for birds may fade. But their frequent visits and constant companionship will continue to light up my life and pull me closer to nature.