With apologies to Ingmar, Bibi, Liv, and the rest of the cast of that similar-sounding miniseries. Did you watch it? It was grim but great drama, or so I hear. On a less intense note, these are snaps from the last month or so, which saw winter come and go over and over again, and feeder action has reflected the changes of the season. Nothing too grim here, folks! unless you feel bad for that squirrel dining in the seed-catcher during one of the snowstorms. Don’t.
To our great shock and dismay, one of last winter’s big storms taught us that the seed-catcher can also load up with inordinate and quite shocking amounts of heavy wet snow, which is very bad as this bends the supporting pole all out of shape. It turns out to be rather soft metal – hey it was cheap! – though as it turns out the thing bends right back with enough leverage (it also helps to have a bench vise and if you are viseless you’re missing out on some great fixit opportunities). But one cannot keep repeating this process endlessly – the limits of inelastic deformation or something like that, which one discovers when the thing breaks, an outcome always worth avoiding. We now have the wisdom to swing the entire apparatus all the way onto the back porch and out of the weather when big snowfalls are predicted, out of respect for the gods of inelastic deformation.
Of course a feeder hanging mere feet from our back porch door means only the bolder birdies will bother to sit there and partake, but of course house sparrows can be very bold, indeed, and aptly named are they. This was shot through the porch door in our back hall. The bird at the bottom is sitting on the snow-covered lid of the garbage can wherein is stored the very delectable black oil sunflower seed; just ask any house sparrow.
Curiously, the past few weeks have seen much reduced sparrow action, with an equal and opposite increase in finch presence, both house and gold. This is likely due to the absence of sparrow intimidation, for which the finches and all of the smaller birds have little tolerance. Nobody likes a bully, whether it’s in the Ukraine or the backyard on Iffley Road.
Another common backyard scene from November to April is the all-day vigil of the mourning doves, who gather in the trees when they’re not busy dominating the seed-catcher or grazing in the yard below. In pre-catcher days, grazing was their only option; it’s not clear what they think of the changes.
House finches have been more prevalent lately than even the goldies, and their chatty vaguely melodic song is heard all day, a welcome change from the loud tuneless chatter of multiple house sparrows, which is all one hears throughout the winter. In the past the finches have nested on our front porch, only to get forced out by the sparrows, surprise surprise. If it sounds like I am down on house sparrows don’t get me wrong; they have their flaws and their charms, just like you and I, and I’d miss them terribly if they somehow disappeared, which is what is starting to happen in England. I’d miss you, too.
The back porch in itself is kind of a big bird feeder, due to spilled seeds here and there from filling the official feeding device; that there is the storage can, and when it snows opportunists scour the whole porch for morsels.
This is the downy woodpecker at the suet which dangles a few feet below the feeder. We’ve had a pair of these (a boy and a girl – is romance next?) very active over the past few weeks, going after seeds as well as this gooey stuff, which is called “Party Mix”. Yumont hardware claims this one outsells all its other suet! Go figure. Of course if you’re a hungry bird trying to survive another winter, any time you find a meal makes it a party. So much depends on one’s perspective.