Pieces of a winter day in January

Editor's note: This column originally was published Jan. 28, 1996.

There is nothing like snow or a frigid morning to bring the birds to the feeder. I wondered if something strange had happened to the goldfinch, house finch, chickadees, pine siskins. They weren't showing up to be fed. There the feeder hung, almost full, just swinging in the wind. Maybe the feeding holes have somehow got stopped up, I thought, and went to investigate. No trouble there. But just to be sure, I poked in a toothpick and gave the seeds a stir. After more days passed without the feathered visitors, I thought, maybe dampness has entered and the seeds had soured.

I emptied the plastic cylinder, washed it in hot, soapy water, dried it carefully, which isn't easy inside because of the crossbars. I filled it again with fresh seeds. Still no birds. Like Dickens and his Little Nell, I wanted to rush out into the street and shout accusingly, "Someone has stolen or killed my birds!"

Then came the bitter cold. I looked out that white, frosty morning and every perch was filled and a waiting line had formed on the holding bracket, the telephone line, the porch rail and probably on the roof, which I couldn't see.

By midafternoon the cylinder was almost empty, and the birds were fighting mad because there were only two perches from which they could feed. So, "fill 'er up again."

The squirrels have demolished my hank of decorative autumn corn, except for the one red seed I put in my experimental terrarium. So I've hung out another hank. I don't make it easy for the squirrels for I like to watch the ingenuity they employ to reach the corn. Up on the porch they come, then up the three-tiered flower stand where they sit for a while working up nerve to make the bold leap to a very narrow little shelf from which the corn is suspended as well as three cowbells. The bells startled them at first and they left in a panic, but they soon overcame their fear of the clanging they produced by that final jump.

I'm thinking of suspending some wind chimes from the cylindrical bird feeder. What a pretty sound I'd have all day long whether there is wind or not and as long as the cold entices the birds.

I have something else in mind to do about the feeder. I'm conducting another experiment that may sound contradictory to my desire to attract the birds to the feeder. This experiment is spurred by a picture I saw in Birds and Blooms magazine, a periodical all bird and blooms and butterfly addicts should have access to. Among the many beautiful pictures, they show a cylindrical bird feeder where the feeding perches are above the seed openings, thus creating an amusing sight. The birds that can, sit on the perches and eat upside down. The goldfinch chickadees and pine siskins can do this.

Does it seem as if I'm trying to make it as difficult for the birds as I am for the squirrels for my own amusement? I'm guilty, although I don't think it is much of a difficulty for either, just a challenge.

I think it would be amusing to look out some morning and see the birds feeding upside down as well as the squirrels, although how can you tell when a squirrel is upside down? In addition to being amused, maybe I wouldn't feel so direction challenged if I turned over a glass of juice or opened a biscuit upside down.

REJOICE!

Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime resident of Cape Girardeau.