Friday, October 17, 2014

Feathered

A group of yellow and red finches are having a proper fight on my porch, they remind me of church ladies in colorful dresses, all worked up about the impending bake sale.

Food is definitely the source of dispute.  The yellow pair can't get the red male and his lady love (gray female) to move their bums off of the feeder, top of which is empty you see.  The gang has been feeding themselves silly since last week as autumn hits and trees grow bare.   So we have a musical chair situation, with half a dozen or more diners but only three seats that reach the food any more (with remaining food).

But the contenders aren't giving up. They circle the site, yellow wings of opportunists that they are.  Adorable too, with their slightly smaller and thinner frame, like the kinder gardeners of the group if you will.  They land themselves on the top perches, looking down at the happy diners below, wings slack, chirps inaudible and eyes droopy.  The very image of puppy faces - of the birdy kind.

But peace is not so easy, as the reds are an aggressive sort.  They stretch their necks and poke the yellow babies with their beak, as if shouting: "you wanna a piece of This?"

"Nay, it's okay, "  would probably be the replies.  The golden ones back off, first onto a higher spot on the roof, then lower to the ground to pick off the discard pile.  Eventually they surprise me by shooting themselves straight up onto the spot, bumping the reds away.  The hard won success was so precious they don't dive into the food right away, but look about themselves like a champion waiting for their medal and thanking their audience for support.

All too often (occasionally) the doves fly by and join (spoil) the fun, causing a sudden flutter of wings, a chorus of chirps rising to code yellow (high anxiety volume).  Finally a human walks near, and the flutters, the commotion and the chorus volume immediately upgrades to defcon red,  and everyone disappears in a flash.  All that's left then are tiny black seeds on the ground beneath, and and an occasional puddle of white splat.

I don't mind the clean up. Honestly, their songs, sights and company are so worth it.

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