Of man and birds

Lenny was always saying to George that "we're gonna live off the fatta the land." And, George would agree. Some day they were gonna have that dream of raising rabbits and livin' off the fatta the land.

Sadly, it never happened for Lenny cuz he was too strong for his own good, and he accidentally killed first pups and then Curley's wife. Steinbeck's classic was a sad story, indeed, but Lenny's dream was not a bad goal for anyone to set.

Livin' off the fatta the land could save a person a lot of money at the grocery store and at Home Depot. I've observed this of late with the arrival of this year's birds. They have it pretty well figured out, as long as they stay away from the cats.

I don't know if it's being older and not having to go anywhere other than home to do my work, but I'm sure noticing a lot more about the habits of birds these days, and it presents a good lesson for humankind.

First and foremost, they get the hell out of Dodge every year when the weather turns bad. They fly somewhere, live well, and come back each spring to set up shop and produce more birds.

I've noticed there's a pecking order too. Someone seems to be in charge, and some birds seem to be carrying out their marching orders. Take, for instance, the robin which has been assigned strawberry patch duty.

I didn't notice this so much the past couple of years, but I think it's the white board fence that has drawn my attention to this sentry whose duty appears to be to watch the progress of those berries and---when they're ready for pecking---to report back to the troops who will swoop down and enjoy sumptuous feasts of biting into juicy, fresh strawberries.

Every morning, that same robin is sitting on that same section of fence, watching and waiting. Sometimes he/she varies the routine, flies off the fence, lands within the patch and trots around doing close-up surveillance. Could be he/she is far-sighted and wants to know for sure how those baby berries are coming.

I'm feeling kinda bad about all this cuz in the next week or so, I'm going to put up another fence---around the berry patch, and then I'll bring the netting and attach it to the temporary garden fence. I know this is going to be devastating to said robin whose faithful vigilance could go for naught.

Damn humans, anyway!

But, still, there are worms, and just because the birds will be denied strawberry desserts to go with the worms, it's not the end of the world. They're still livin' off the fatta the land, and they'll still have big red paunches.

Then, there are the bird houses. We have one on a fencepost in the south lawn. No foreclosures here. No abandoned, empty house with a sad story of the inhabitants who once dwelled there and lost their American dream. This house is now fully occupied for the spring and summer months.

And, these lovebirds---swallows, he with the blue back and she with the brown coat---are making a home for their children. And, it's all off the fatta the land. No trips to Home Depot. No contractor fees or county planning department fees. It's all relatively simple for the birds.

Low-income housing is ubiquitous around here, thanks to the Taylors who spent one winter in their big shop building homes for birds. Last spring they nailed dozens of houses, all freshly painted with bright colors, to posts on their farm and still more on posts in other fields where they farm. We saw a bunch of yellow bird houses on posts in a field off Forest Siding Road while biking last night.

They had that distinctive Taylor-made look to them.

And, when you build those houses, they will come. A few weeks ago, avian couples galore did some low-flying surveillance and liked what they saw. Who wouldn't love to live in the Selle Valley?

I was afraid our bird house would go unoccupied this spring because of so much availability, but happily we have occupants, and we're not charging them any rent-----our reward comes from watching them at work, preparing for family and guarding their home much better than any high-priced surveillance company could do.

The other day, our friends, the Aavedals came for a visit. The birds were not happy that Bob, Linda and I had stepped too close to their home on the post. They made their feelings known through aerial assaults--dive bombs coming mere inches from our heads. So, we moved on, and the birds ceased their attacks.

The more I watch the birds, the more I want to know. Is that the very same robin who comes to watch over our strawberry patch every single year? Are those crows who pick out their territory on various plots of land all from the same family.

Where DO the birds spend the winter? I think they've got the best idea on that one, and I'd like to follow them one of these years. They seem to be a lot smarter than all us humans who hang around here and gripe about the weather for months on end.

Yup, there's a lot we could learn from the birds, and I do admire their taste for sweet, juicy strawberries and taking up residence in colorful summer homes.

But, I'm not so sure I want to take up dining on worms.