Here’s a discomforting thought, at least for me. When you start feeding the birds, you take on a commitment. For a commitment-phobe like the current writer, that’s troubling.
But I get over it. I worry how they’ll get on when finally I leave this place. I’ve thought of making it a condition that the house will only be sold to someone who promises to feed them.
But, in the end, I’ll probably just stick with hope over legality (as well as accepting the highest bid!).
I’d leave in spring
If ever I do leave, it’ll be in spring. The birds don’t need so much then and I don’t see them that often in summer.
I’m not an idiot about this either. I’m sure, outwith the harshest months of winter, the birds will manage without moi.
Birds or no birds, I’d leave in spring anyway, as the tourist-crowded summers here are becoming unbearable. Believe me, your city supermarkets and car parks aren’t nearly as crowded as ours in summer.
Meantime, in the depths of winter, every time I step outside, a flurry of feathers erupts overhead.
As the song says: “Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near?” Because I’ve got food, that’s why.
My two friendly birds
Those who come closest are the female blackbird and the male robin. Two male robins, in fact. The one from the next territory along frequently sticks his beak in, until chased off by the rightful red-breasted laird of all he surveys.
At other times, when there’s a surfeit of vittles and they’re satiated, the two rub along fine. The resident robin has only ventured to take food from my hand once.
He feeds happily enough just inches from my glaikit coupon. But he won’t make that final jump onto my hand. Comes close, but always thinks better of it. Ultimately, they don’t trust us. Who can blame them?
A huge bear, that’s me
Imagine if we were being enticed with food by a 50ft tall, meat-eating bear. It’s possible, too, they think we’re feeding them just to fatten them up, as we do with chickens.
Or maybe they think they’re getting one over on us: nicking our food.
My bond with the female blackbird deepened after I rescued her when she crashed into the living room window.
We were already close before that, sunbathing together you may recall. But, every time I go out now, she flies towards me, making happy clucking sounds.
Spot, a male blackbird in the garden of my old house in the suburbs, used to take food off my knee (when I was seated on the bench; I wasn’t standing up with it taped it to my troosers).
Happy to be near
But the current lass is happy enough just taking it from the feeder or the ground near my feet.
Interestingly, my favourite vloggers – all independent women (mostly with husbands) living in rural Sweden, Canada, Washington State – feed their birds.
It’s only natural. The wee beasties lack food in winter. We can access it easily. So it’s a no-brainer.
These lasses are all lovely people into the bargain, with grounded and pleasant personalities, which is why they now have millions of followers.
Yep, we bird-feeders are good guys.
That said, they’ve all got pets, and I don’t. That’s a commitment too far!