|"You feed them?"|
My wife Chris (aka Mrs. Ichabod) was amused by my plans for Creature Convention Center. When the first version tumbled down, I said, "My dreams were too small!" (Notre Dame reference)
I realized the soft ground argued against vertical height, and the birds did not need a skyscraper. Why, we have new building in the area that is prit-near seven storeys high.
I used two sheets of plastic, 60" by 30", separated by concrete blocks from Mrs. Wright's yard. This gives us three levels, many nooks and crannies, and plenty of space on top for food and water. The middle layer is more protected from rain, which really mattered last week. Our extra storm alone gave us 3 more inches of rain and turned the soggy yard into a rice paddy.
I had to re-position version 2 of the CCC, because it was too close to the house to observe from the bedroom window. Now the Jackson Bird Spa and the CCC are linked by a mulched lane, where the first version tumbled down.
The view out the bedroom window is now:
- A bird feeder for finches and chicadees, a few inches away, on the right.
- Jackson EZ Bird Swing, just to the left of the feeder, a little above eye level.
- Hanging platform for food, to the left of the swing.
- CCC - down below, next to the Butterfly Bush.
- Jackson Bird Spa - the mulched area just beyond the CCC, between the trees. Ten bird baths.
- Pounds of suet hang everywhere. Seed everywhere. Plenty of food in the mulch.
|Mrs. Ichabod said, "How can anyone glance at a garden and remain an atheist?"|
Luther saw birds as God's professors, because they wake up every morning singing cheerfully, not even knowing where the next meal is coming from. Having nothing to eat, they praise God first.
Very few of them store food. Blue jays store acorns, but they actually create oak forests by "hiding" the acorns that are most promising for germination - better than smart scientists can. Squirrels also aid in the spread of the trees they need and enjoy.
But birds start out each day hungry, listening to their hatchlings chirping for food. Without complaint, the birds fly off to work and return with worms, grubs, and insects for their scrawny babies.
We watched blue jays out of our Bella Vista window, growing from naked and skinny to fluttering their baby wings, to gone. The parents never attacked me when I got near the nest, because I was dropping off piles of sunflower seeds for mom and dad. Instead the parents watched me approach the bush where the family lived, dump the seeds, and depart. I never heard a screech, never felt a dive-bombing and pecking attack.
If all birds sang like me and the grackles, life would be tough in the morning and no lyrics would be written about them. But the Creating Word fashioned them to be examples, teachers, harbingers of joy. We lost a dear friend on Sunday, David Pearson, married to a Moline classmate. I hope the birds comfort and remind her often of the Savior's words.