We had a bag of old dog food, unloved by the finicky and spoiled Sassy. The grand-niece of a friend was visiting and wanted to feed the birds, so she asked for food for them. "You had peanuts last time. What happened to them?"
I said, "They were eaten by birds, squirrels, and humans." Let's use Sass's old dog food. The girl dumped the food tentatively on the upside-down kiddy pool, which gave it elevation above the snow and damp soil. In no time the Starlings cleaned up all the food.
Yesterday I had some old food left in the dog dish. Ranger Bob is always spoiling Sassy's appetite with milk-bones, treats, and crackers. She eats food from him that she rejects from us. He never tires of reminding us.
I put the cup of dog food (neither Moist nor Meaty anymore) on the garbage bin outdoors. Soon the watchful Starlings pounced on it.
Little episodes call up memories. Lynda was impressed that we had four kinds of doves in our yard in Phoenix - Inca Doves, White-Winged Doves, Mourning Doves, and Rock Pigeons. We were a dove destination. My mother scattered sunflower seeds around the yard, and we bought dove blocks. With such royal treatment, a group of doves never really left the yard. They burst into flight when a workman stepped outside, leading one to admonish me, "You should have warned me. They scared me half to death."
One cold night the Inca Doves stacked themselves against the warmer kitchen windows, about four deep. It looked like a candy display at an old-fashioned drugstore. I wondered how He wrote the software in their flighty brains to assemble so carefully and save calories of heat with the vertical snuggle.
For Lynda, description of our Phoenix birds was a thrill. I see the chalice and paten from them and think, "They brought them from the East for our Holy Communion services."
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| I am looking for this on Alibris. The price has to be very high. |
