Close Encounters of the Bird Kind
This last Saturday my beloved and I went walking in Kensington Metropark. Among the footpaths there is one called the Chickadee Trail, where the wee birds will feed from your hand. We were barely a few feet along the trail when we noticed the bare trees held a great many perching birds. Reaching into the bags of seed we had brought with us, we each brought forth a handful and held it out. Almost immediately we became airport hubs with flights arriving and departing every few seconds.
Even knowing that folks had been hand-feeding them here for years I was completely surprised by the readiness of the birds. I had expected a significant time of playing statue would be required to coax a few cautious individuals into snatching a hasty seed. Not at all. As soon as the seed was presented the flock of chickadee and tufted titmouse flew in to feed.
Most individuals would perch on finger or palm edge just long enough to quickly choose a seed and then fly off. A few would dawdle over their selection. One young chickadee made my thumb a dining room as he picked up a seed, put it between his feet to hold, and pecked away to eat it. He repeated this performance for a few more seeds before flying off.
Generally taking individual turns, there were times when two or more would peaceably perch on a hand to snatch a seed. And also a few times when a jealous diner would drive off the others before making a selection.
There is a gentle wonder in so closely feeding a tiny, trusting(somewhat) life. The wind of small fluttering wings blowing across your palm. The tiny poke of each claw gripping your finger. The barely felt weight of a feathery body. The wee peck as a seed is picked up. And then gone. Our fingers got quite cold before they could convince us to leave.
As we left the start of the trail we noticed far fewer birds. Nevertheless we did coax a white-breasted nuthatch to take a peanut from my hand. He did not return for seconds. Other than a titmouse who came close but could not bring himself to land and take a seed, that was all the bird activity until we looped back to the beginning of the trail. With fingers warmed up by our walk we indulged in another session of handfeeding the chickadees and tits and one more special diner, a downy woodpecker who attached himself to my fingertips and ate seed after seed before finally returning to the trees. I felt somewhat guilty that I had gotten both nuthatch and woodpecker while my beloved got only chickadee and titmouse but she pointed out that it was probably that my stiff brown coat resembled a tree trunk much more than her bright blue one. That stupidly made me feel better.
This was originally posted on Dreamwidth.
Even knowing that folks had been hand-feeding them here for years I was completely surprised by the readiness of the birds. I had expected a significant time of playing statue would be required to coax a few cautious individuals into snatching a hasty seed. Not at all. As soon as the seed was presented the flock of chickadee and tufted titmouse flew in to feed.
Most individuals would perch on finger or palm edge just long enough to quickly choose a seed and then fly off. A few would dawdle over their selection. One young chickadee made my thumb a dining room as he picked up a seed, put it between his feet to hold, and pecked away to eat it. He repeated this performance for a few more seeds before flying off.
Generally taking individual turns, there were times when two or more would peaceably perch on a hand to snatch a seed. And also a few times when a jealous diner would drive off the others before making a selection.
There is a gentle wonder in so closely feeding a tiny, trusting(somewhat) life. The wind of small fluttering wings blowing across your palm. The tiny poke of each claw gripping your finger. The barely felt weight of a feathery body. The wee peck as a seed is picked up. And then gone. Our fingers got quite cold before they could convince us to leave.
As we left the start of the trail we noticed far fewer birds. Nevertheless we did coax a white-breasted nuthatch to take a peanut from my hand. He did not return for seconds. Other than a titmouse who came close but could not bring himself to land and take a seed, that was all the bird activity until we looped back to the beginning of the trail. With fingers warmed up by our walk we indulged in another session of handfeeding the chickadees and tits and one more special diner, a downy woodpecker who attached himself to my fingertips and ate seed after seed before finally returning to the trees. I felt somewhat guilty that I had gotten both nuthatch and woodpecker while my beloved got only chickadee and titmouse but she pointed out that it was probably that my stiff brown coat resembled a tree trunk much more than her bright blue one. That stupidly made me feel better.
This was originally posted on Dreamwidth.