Even though being too close to any sort of bird makes my stomach jump up into my throat, I try to keep my fowlish fears to myself. My son is a bit of a bird aficionado and I try to be encouraging. And I don't mind watching the little swallows or the brightly colored birds. Or a blue heron standing in a pool of water. And one time a bald eagle flew right in front of me when I was driving and it was so incredibly close I could see its eyes and the snake in its talons . . . and I was a bit impressed. It's when they rush at me that I have the real issues. (Or move slightly. Or look at me.)
In fact, right now we have Squeaky Tricycle Bird somewhere in our vicinity and I'm dying to see it. I've only heard the Squeaky Tricycle Bird one other time in my life. (Long story short - when I lived in another Burg, this crazy kid on an extremely squeaky tricycle kept waking me up before 6:00 in the morning in the summer. I would rush to the window trying to catch this kid on this trike so I could holler out the window to quit riding by my house at such an obscene hour in the morning, but I could never see him. "Dang!", I would think. "This kid is fast on this trike!" And then after about a week of getting up far earlier than a single teaching girl ought to on a summer morning, I realized it was a bird. Duh.)
Anyhoo, today we made the classic pinecone birdfeeders for our fine feathered friends. (Or maybe Murphy, our resident squirrel. We started with this . . .
And added a little shortenin' . . .
"Do the birds eat this stuff?" - August
A little birdseed sprinklin' . . .
A little bird sprinkling . . .
The finished project . . .
My sweet elf in the tree . . .
So come, little birds, and we'll happily watch you. Some of us closer than others, but we cordially invite you to enjoy our little birdfeeders!
(Especially you, Squeaky Tricycle Bird. Are you red? Do you have a third wheel? Do you carry a bicycle horn? Please reveal yourself.)
