We are Birders. Not birdwatchers. We have evolved waaay past the birdwatching moniker. Once more than $500 is spent on birding paraphernalia, you pretty much have to start calling yourself a birder. BTW, we have exceeded the $500 many times over on such necessary birding accessories as feeder systems, binoculars (of which we have a lot), hiking boots, walking sticks, books, cameras, Tilley hats, bird whistles, and little stuffed birds that mimic the sound of the species w/ a push of the belly. Oh, did I mention we had our humble backyard designated a Natural Habitat? Metal sign and all. Add another $25 to the pot for that one. And then there's the cost of specialty seed, and of course, live meal worms.
Which leads me into the meat of this post, Worm Wars! We follow our feathered friends from season to season; watching the migrating species come through in the Spring and Fall; then, observing the late Spring mating, nesting, brooding, hatching and fledging birds. Come Winter, all the usual winter species settle in and pick an acceptable roosting spot nearby our food and water supply. As the cold weather settles in, all our backyard friends start looking for my appearance onto the back deck to add yummy morsels of live meal worms to the bird buffet already in place.
Unfortunately, these little high-protein snacks are highly prized, and fiercely fought over. Fighting is kept to a minimum due to the pecking order courtesy of all the partakers of the worms, with the exception of the mockingbirds.
Now, according to Truman Capote's secretary, we should not kill a mockingbird. Although I now understand why someone would want to! Very territorial, and prone to bullying, these loudmouth mimickers of the avian world really pushed my buttons this morning.
We live in the Southeast, but still get some pretty darn cold weather. The colder the weather, the hungrier the birdies get. A recent low pressure system escaping from the devastation it left in the Mid-West and now the Northeast has taken over, and immediate action was required. At least on the bird front.
So I bundled up, stepping out on the back porch, and scooped the fresh, refrigerated meal worms into the 'dinner bell'. Chickadees, Wrens, Titmice, Warblers, Nuthatches and our beloved Blue Birds were waiting in our now leafless River Birch for brunch. The early bird may get the worm in the wild, but the patient, backyard bird waits until I get my lazy butt up. It's now brunch. I return inside to shut the glass storm door, and watch and wait for the feeding frenzy.
When what to my not-so-surprised-eyes did I see? A mockingbird chasing my blues away!! So, how does one remedy this? After all, it was the Eastern Blue Bird that started this whole crazy birding adventure. I was not about to let a couple of obnoxious Mocks chase away MY birds!! I opened the back door quickly, yelling "SHOO" loudly at the Mocks. They fly to the roof to evade the danger, then resume the harassing.
I counter attack by grabbing the worms back out of the fridge, and running outside to fill an empty dish feeder closer to the blue bird box, hoping to confuse the bully birds.
Alas, the assault continued. Mocks chasing away the Blue Birds whenever they tried to sneak a worm out of the dish. There I was, in my jammy top, yoga pants, fleece vest and slippers; standing with a Rubbermaid container of live worms in the middle of my backyard on a Saturday morning, waving a large serving spoon at the air. Without thought, I raised my voice and spoon, and proceeded to shout into what must have looked like thin air to the neighbors, "Damn it stupid birds! Don't chase my blues away!"
Realizing the irony in my statement, I cringed, prancing over little piles of doggy poop in an attempt to return to the safety of my house without one of the neighbors calling the cops. I can hear the call now.
"911, what is your emergency?"
"There is a crazy lady in our neighbors' yard. She's dressed like a homeless person, and shouting into the air, and waving a large spoon! Better send a mental health worker out, too. She's talking to herself. Something about 'chasing the blues away'. I think she's depressed, or bi-polar, off her meds, or something. Who doesn't want to chase their blues away?"
"Thank you, we'll send someone right over."
Well, it's been about two hours, and no cops yet. Good thing I ran back into the house so quickly! Back into the safety of my warm home. Back to the security of my dog and six cats. Headline: Crazy lady shouts in suburban back yard. Returns inside to house full of cats!
Mom, Dad, if you're reading this, I'm OK, really. I haven't crossed-over into the realm of the unstable. I just like birds , and dogs, and cats. Really!!
Just don't even think about chasing away my blues!
