Photographers, artists, poets: show us BOLD.
Every year in Winter when the days are
frozen and cold, the ground is hard and solid and food and drink are scarce, numerous
birds are rescued from death by starvation. The bird house is full with seeds
and other birdy food delights. Every morning you see Mrs. Angloswiss dressed in
a long thermally padded black coat battling her way through ice and snow in the
garden. As she has only just finished her breakfast she has not had time to
shower and dress, the birds cannot wait. It is a matter of life or death. Her
slippered feet are no protection against the cold, so she keeps a pair of pink
crocs (garden plastic clogs) in the outside cupboard for stepping across the frozen
earth.
She reaches the bird house which is suspended on the branches of a leafless apple tree and lifts it from its place, her fingers circling around the metal holder and swears a few words as the metal is bloody cold and sharp. However, undaunted she returns to the cupboard where the goodies are kept for the flying population.
It might be that she encounters a feline on the way, who promptly disappears into the garden cupboard to play adventures in the dark.
“You mean me Mrs. Human.”
“Yes, Nera I mean you, always interrupting my journey.*
“I do not play adventures in the dark, but there are all sorts of creeping things in that garden cupboard to satisfy the delight of a feline.”
“Nera, you were the star of yesterday’s daily prompt, stealing the limelight from my writing talents, today it is my turn. May I continue?”
“Sorry Mrs. Human, go ahead, I am sure you have some wise words, but how someone can spend time on writing about feeding birds in the garden is a mystery to me. Birds are meals on wings.”
“NERA!”
“Ok, Mrs. Human, but you do resemble more a clown in a circus than a good Samaritan on a bird saving mission when you are doing your good deed for the day.”
I decided to ignore the last remark. As I was saying she battles her way to the food reserves and fills the bird house to the brim. She returns and fetches another mixture, scattering it under the tree for the birds that prefer to eat on the ground. The robins are not so sociable; like to eat alone at ground level. Sparrows and robins do not mix together. The blue tits prefer a suspended food supply and mainly eat from the hanging nets in the trees filled with food.
Gatherings of birds are often to be seen, probably when the chief bird calls in his sweet chirp “Grubs up birds” and they flock together and peck at the food.
And that is my daily good deed and rescue effort.
“Yes, Mrs. Human, if they do not die at the teeth of a feline, they die of a heart attack or overweight. We have the fattest best fed birds in the neighbourhood. The sparrows are slowly throwing shadows over the blackbirds and the branches are bending under their weight.”
“Nera be quiet, I am saving the future of our local bird population.”
She reaches the bird house which is suspended on the branches of a leafless apple tree and lifts it from its place, her fingers circling around the metal holder and swears a few words as the metal is bloody cold and sharp. However, undaunted she returns to the cupboard where the goodies are kept for the flying population.
It might be that she encounters a feline on the way, who promptly disappears into the garden cupboard to play adventures in the dark.
“You mean me Mrs. Human.”
“Yes, Nera I mean you, always interrupting my journey.*
“I do not play adventures in the dark, but there are all sorts of creeping things in that garden cupboard to satisfy the delight of a feline.”
“Nera, you were the star of yesterday’s daily prompt, stealing the limelight from my writing talents, today it is my turn. May I continue?”
“Sorry Mrs. Human, go ahead, I am sure you have some wise words, but how someone can spend time on writing about feeding birds in the garden is a mystery to me. Birds are meals on wings.”
“NERA!”
“Ok, Mrs. Human, but you do resemble more a clown in a circus than a good Samaritan on a bird saving mission when you are doing your good deed for the day.”
I decided to ignore the last remark. As I was saying she battles her way to the food reserves and fills the bird house to the brim. She returns and fetches another mixture, scattering it under the tree for the birds that prefer to eat on the ground. The robins are not so sociable; like to eat alone at ground level. Sparrows and robins do not mix together. The blue tits prefer a suspended food supply and mainly eat from the hanging nets in the trees filled with food.
Gatherings of birds are often to be seen, probably when the chief bird calls in his sweet chirp “Grubs up birds” and they flock together and peck at the food.
And that is my daily good deed and rescue effort.
“Yes, Mrs. Human, if they do not die at the teeth of a feline, they die of a heart attack or overweight. We have the fattest best fed birds in the neighbourhood. The sparrows are slowly throwing shadows over the blackbirds and the branches are bending under their weight.”
“Nera be quiet, I am saving the future of our local bird population.”
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Trust Nera to see things in a feline way :-))
ReplyDeleteGreat shots of the birds, BTW :-))