The hoovering hordes of redpolls that seemingly inhaled an 8-lb bag of seed in just a few days inspired me to two creative endeavours: a video and another haiku.
Many for the Road
Wings flutter madly.
Eyes shine as seeds disappear.
Feeder sways, empty.
They’re gone for the season I think. It’s nice to think they’re out there somewhere, though, and I guess the same could be said of many things and most people. So here’s a toast to absent-but-not-fallen comrades.
The link took me to the toast to “fallen comrades”. While it was intended specifically for comrades in the military, I think it could be amended and applied in many community groups. It might also be more memorable than a droning litany of names.
Jim T – There’s something to ritual, all right. And the fewer words the better.
You can be satisfied to know you have helped them on their way. They will have your feeder on their itinerary for their next migration — five-star eats!
Laurna – I wonder if they do remember “good eats” year to year. So much I don’t know about birds.
Our daughter Bethany had a fondness for birds. When she was very ill, she rescued a fledgling cedar waxwing and rehabilitated it in her room over the summer. Learning that waxwings are sociable and will find a flock if they can, she released it in the fall. She climbed the hill south of the house to set “Cricket” free, which was a suggestion that the bird was assisting her recovery as well. A few days later, the cedar waxwing that would swoop down to her in the garden must surely have been the same “Cricket.” That short-term memory may suggest longer-term memory as well.
Laurna – What a delightful story. I saw a movie about an Australian family that took in a fledgling magpie for a time and it knew them for sure. We’ll see what happens in the fall, I guess, as they move back south.