Poor little Finch.
"Mama, somebody's in my feeder and they're eating all my seeds."
Happy Grosbeaks.
"Gee, this is a sumptuous feast. C'mon, guys, gorge yourselves."
This colorful bird-feeder scene out our front window came yesterday along with the snow. Just like Rand Paul's filibuster, wet stuff has been coming from the sky almost continuously ever since.
No trip through the fields and woods this morning.
Each step taken through the slop on South Center Valley Road made me flip the mental channel back to St. George, Utah, this time last week and that beautiful dry, red dirt.
Nice to have those images and memories with the typical March sludge comes along and overstays its visit.
I looked at the weather forecast this morning, and we do have a 70-percenter day's worth of precipitation.
Tomorrow, though, it stops, for about three days.
Then, comes the sludge again---for a week.
Red-dirt dreams will certainly do a few reruns as we suffer through a week's worth of good ol' North Idaho March.
What is this with so much winter in March anymore. I can remember a year when we still lived at the Great Northern place that a March 13 blizzard closed our driveway and we thought it was pretty darned unusual.
Of course, we have moved to the snow belt, so often when it's raining in town, the ground is turning white out here.
We'll endure, as will the finches.
Grosbeaks show up just every so often, so I think the finches and the chickadees and the "guilty" doves will still have plenty of sunflower seeds on their dinner plate.
Our doves never seem to get past the "sit/eat and run" syndrome.
Their quick exits from the bird feeder complex remind me of Mike, Kevin and Marianne hearing someone at the back door, slamming the bread drawer shut and sprinting to their respective bedrooms (often with slices of bread hidden beneath their shirts).
We had reasons to feel guilty, and the wrath of our mother who tried to keep her cupboards well-stocked was justified.
I've never once yelled at those doves for stealing a few sunflower seeds on the side.
Maybe they had a past life, living as humans in a house where stealing food and racing off to safety to gobble it down was their mantra.
Birds of spring have added some drama to the not-so-thrilling weather. I saw half a dozen robins gathered in a bare spot in Dan Wood's field the other morning.
I also saw a red-winged blackbird sharing space on the power line with two robins that same day.
This morning's robin sightings: none.
Seems I was the only one foolish enough to go out there and brave the elements. I've always wondered where the birds camp out when it's wet and sloppy.
Anyway, we can't get too excited about spring just yet, but that doesn't mean I can't do my gardening.
My house is littered with potting trays, filled with seed this past couple of days.
So, while it snows and rains outside, I can at least water the pots and watch for the first hint of green to pop out of the soil.
And, I can take occasional strolls through the living room to see what winged creatures are enjoying a meal at the Lovestead bird-feeder station.
If I really want to have some fun while awaiting a 0-percenter day, I can occasionally get sneaky, steal a piece of that Mennonite whole-wheat bread, slap some butter and jelly on it and casually munch it down, knowing nobody's gonna yell at me.
Ah, the fun at the end of another endless North Idaho winter.
Happy Thursday. Stay dry.
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