A September Morning

Today was my birthday. I woke before my alarm at 6:10 or so. It was dark. Thunder rolled in the distance. Rain poured down and out of the gutters. It was too noisy and too dark for 6 o'clock in the morning.

Staring out the back window, eating breakfast.

There were visitors today. A surprise. The feeders and shrubs aren't typically busy in poor weather.

Sitting up on a cable line above the Staghorn Sumac, a gray bird with blue tail feathers. One of the Eastern Bluebirds juveniles from this summer.

No. Not one. Something flies out of the Sumac and into the grass then back up. Another two exit the Pagoda Dogwood. Then diving Bluebird activity begins between the Sumac and Dogwood.

I didn't inspect the Dogwood. I suspect that had I, I would have found no berries left. There had been many.

And other visitors this morning. A pair of Northern Cardinals, a Downy Woodpecker, a White Breasted Nuthatch, dozens of House Finches. Two Blue Jays interrupt the feast at the feeder. The peanut feeder is empty before 6:30.

In my need to connect with nature and seemingly to anthropomorphize my backyard companions, I tell myself the Bluebirds came back this morning to wish me a happy birthday perhaps as a thank you for providing them a good nursery. In reality, this morning's weather probably made foraging difficult so they returned to the place where they could count on a healthy cache of berries.

While I am very conscious of their comings and goings and feel an affinity toward them as though they are somehow my Bluebirds; the truth of the matter is that the wild things of my yard are relatively unaware of me so long as I leave them in peace. The same is true of yours of course. There are some exceptions, the Blue Jays seem to recognize me as the peanut provider, but as I watch the birds while eating my breakfast, I am confident that while they ate theirs, they never saw me lift my spoon.