Things With Wings

There has been a little drama unfolding in the old weeping birch outside my window. The tree itself is likely ancient and dying, but with it's faltering breaths is giving birth to all kinds of activity. The empty knothole where Little Red hides his stash of winter food was the location of a blatant robbery yesterday morning.

I was on my out to Ladies' Prayer when I spotted one of those beautiful bluejays that have been so evasive this year. They have redis- covered my generosity with peanuts, and have come to call, on Little Red. I didn't have my camera ready or I could have caught it all in pictures, that mean old bluejay perching at the edge of the knothole, reaching in, grabbing a peanut, and flying off. "Hey! That's not nice!" I yelled at him, but he paid no mind.

I bought a bag of "Critter Crunch" while I was out yesterday afternoon, filled a ceramic bowl, and placed it at the base of the tree where Little Red was sure to find it today. He did. And so did the bluejays. Not that I mind. Everyone is hungry on cold winter mornings

It's been a morning full of activity; bluejays squawking and Little Red running about trying to chase them away but not being very successful. I've seen cardinals, a red bellied woodpecker,  chickadee or two, and several of those beautiful, pesky bluejays. The quiet, gently juncos must be waiting until the crowds thin out.

Little Red finally gave up on the bluejays and decided to have some breakfast himself. Good thing. I'd have been really disappointed if he spent all his time trying to chase the birds away only to end up going hungry himself.

I was thinking perhaps I'd missed my calling as a wildlife photographer, but then I remembered all those little children whose pictures I've taken through the years, years when I either didn't have so much going on outside the window or didn't have the time to take notice. I only wish my mom was here to share the excitement with me. In their later years both Mom and Dad had enjoyed the wildlife in their own backyard. Maybe my fascination means I'm starting to grow up too. Or maybe not.
:0)

Either way, I'm thankful for the gift of feathered and furry friends who remind me that if His eye is on the sparrow (and little squirrels), I can be sure He's watching me too.