Average Joe: Who needs Netflix when the bird feeder is hopping with natural entertainment?
Whenever I am up to my elbows in dirty dishes, I feel grateful for my neighbor’s bird feeder just beyond the window at my kitchen sink.
Penny’s feeder hangs on a shepherd's crook next to her study's window. It attracts an array of feathered and furry creatures to the lovely little greenspace between our homes, creating a hub of activity and a pleasant distraction from the task at hand.
Silly person that I am, I like to imagine the conversations taking place among the little visitors. (This might come as no shock from a guy who believes his kitchen appliances talk to him.)
I don’t have Dr. Doolittle-level interpretation skills for the chatter of all the squirrels, rabbits, chipmunks, blue jays, grackles, finches and maybe a dozen more species that hang out in between our houses. I did, however, receive a certificate naming me Master of the Woodland Beasts long ago in my camp counselor days. And that has to count for something. So come along on a mini safari with me for a few moments as I translate what is happening outside the window at the Birdseed Bistro.
Rulers of the roost
The squirrels think they own the place. Two in particular — we’ll call them Brenda and Eddie — lord over the feeder as if they are guarding the federal mint. Brenda is perched on top of it, daring everyone else to mess with her stash. Eddie is patrolling the ground underneath, waiting for his turn to climb onto the feeder.
“Hey Brender, are you coming down soon?”
No answer.
"Brender, you've been up there long enough. You promised me we'd trade."
“Stop calling me ‘Brender.’ That’s not my name! We live in Northeast Ohio, not New York City.”
Eddie stares up. Brenda glares down. Birds gather and watch the stare fight.
Social media darling
A pair of juncos comes in for a soft landing on a nearby tree branch. Donald and Lydia. (I presume they are John Prine fans like myself.)
“You gonna tweet today?” Donald asks.
“Yeah, I think so. It’s gonna be epic,” Lydia replies.
“Sweet,” Donald says. “I bet it will be.”
They sit quietly for a moment.
“I’m ready,” Lydia announces, clearing her throat. “Here goes: Tweet.”
“That was epic,” Donald says.
Just passing through
The sun is spilling through a gap in the trees, and Hopper the rabbit is loving it. She is stretched out lazily, soaking up the rays until the earth rotates the sunny spot into the shade.
She casually makes her way from the backyard to the front, where she will stretch out again underneath a bush. Along the way, two robins — both named Robin, coincidentally — try to chat up Hopper.
“Hey, you see we got the resupply on the seed?” Robin One says.
“Meh,” Hopper says. “I’m good with my greens.” And she moves along.
There's some eye-rolling from Robin Two. “Resupply? Seriously? You’ve been watching ‘The Wire’ way too much.”
Changing of the guard
A chipmunk runs up the side of my house and plops its hind quarters on my windowsill. I decide to call this one Moon.
Brenda spots Moon and it slips her mind that she will lose her perch when she tries to chase Moon away. Eddie pounces on the chance to take over the feeder.
“You’re such a brat!” Brenda calls up to Eddie.
“IKR,” Eddie cheekily replies. Brenda looks puzzled for a second, then has an “a-ha” moment.
“That doesn’t really work in out-loud conversation, Ed. You should save that for texting.”
“I know, right?”
Twitter isn’t for everyone
Two chickadees, Anastasia and Xenon, land and peck around at the surplus that has spilled beneath the feeder.
“I heard some of the other birds were gonna tweet today,” Anastasia says. “You think you will, too?”
“Absolutely not,” Xenon says.
“Why not?”
“We are chickadees, Anastasia. We do NOT tweet. We go “chick-a-dee-dee-dee-dee.”
“Snob,” snorts Anastasia before she flies off.
What a jerk
I’ve been watching Brenda and Eddie rule this scene for long enough, and I'm wondering how I can get them to share without going out there myself and scaring everything away.
Then my mind drifts a couple of years back to a day when the kids and I were watching one of Hopper's ancestors peacefully exploring the yard. Out of nowhere, a red-tailed hawk swooped down and grabbed that bunny right up in its talons and flew off. The kids and I looked at each other, stunned. Then we talked about the circle of life and played some cornhole.
Yes, a hawk could scare those greedy squirrels away. Then, an idea for a slightly devilish prank crosses my mind. I grab my smart speaker and pull out my iPhone, looking up a sound effect of a red-tailed hawk. I slide open the window and set the speaker on the sill, blasting the raptor’s fearsome screech.
Almost every creature hightails it out of there, Brenda moving at lightning speed. Eddie jams himself inside of the feeder, causing it to swing wildly and scatter seeds everywhere.
After a few moments, he cautiously climbs back out and up on top.
“Brenda, where you at?”
“Brenda?”
“Brenda! Come on! This ain’t funny.”
He shoots a glance at me, making eye contact through the window. He senses some mischief at play. He has been thinking about getting an iPhone 13 Pro, incidentally, and he knows all about Bluetooth audio connections. I feel him judging me now, shaking his head, thinking "what a jerk!"
He loses interest in me after a minute and returns to his search for Brenda.
“Listen, if you can hear me, please come back. I promise to stop calling you ‘Brender’ from now on!”
She inches her way back, and the other birds decide it's safe to return, too. But as soon as Brenda's at the foot of the feeder, there’s another screech.
This time, it’s not coming from my speaker. A real hawk circles high above our houses.
Suddenly, Eddie's gone and the Birdseed Bistro is a ghost town. I didn't even get a chance to wave goodbye.
There goes my entertainment. And these dishes aren’t going to wash themselves.
When he isn’t toiling away as the Beacon Journal metro editor, you can occasionally find Joe Thomas musing about everyday life as the Average Joe. Reach him at jthomas@thebeaconjournal.com
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This article originally appeared on Akron Beacon Journal: Average Joe: Who needs Netflix when the bird feeder is hopping with fun
