Flying Leaves and Falling Wings

A skiff of snow fell overnight, and in the morning, the dogwood tree in the front yard, so glorious just days before, wore its leaves in patches like a mangy dog. A bluebird flew in and landed on one of the thin branches. 

Another joined it, then another, followed by waxwings and robins, as if the fallen leaves had sprouted wings overnight and were back, standing in as replacements. It isn't a bad trade-off. For the leaves, their first flight is their last, but the birds keep flying. They animate the tree in a way leaves never can.

The few dogwood berries that remained were strewn on the ground. Taking stock of the inventory, the birds hopped to the ground to bolt down their breakfast. One bluebird peered under a leaf, located a neon red berry and swallowed it whole in one gulp. Within a few minutes, the flock had cleared the yard of berries and moved on. 

Not all of the birds were so fortunate. A purple finch crashed into our sliding glass door and laid on the deck like a fallen leaf before struggling to its feet. Listing to one side, it perched wobbly, hanging on to life with a tenacity known to wild things. Hoping to shelter it from the frigid breeze, I took an old towel outside, shaping it with a cavity for a windbreak, and gingerly set the bird inside.

The finch rested there, unresponsive for some time, an uneaten sunflower seed still in its beak. 

After a while, it dropped the seed, lifted its head, and surveyed the surroundings with a renewed recognition. It seemed to remember, for the first time in a while, that it could fly. 

With a swift motion, it picked up the seed again, hopped to the top of the towel, and lifted off. One fallen leaf had taken flight.

Avian Testimonials

Early this week, with the ground dry and parched and the temperature plunging like an elevator in free-fall, the birds at our feeders were ravenous. It seemed like a good time to mix up some suet.

Suet is easy to make. Here's my recipe:

1 cup lard
1 cup crunchy peanut butter
1 cup oatmeal
2 cups unsalted sunflower seeds, shelled
1 cup flaxseed meal or yellow cornmeal
1/2 cup raisins

Melt the lard and peanut butter in a large saucepan, and mix in the other ingredients. Spoon into molds (I used the bottom 2 inches of plastic cups), press the mix together, and freeze. Sometimes, I also press the mix into pinecones.

When the suet was frozen and out of the molds, I made a hole with a skinny nail through the center of each one, then threaded a thin wire through the hole, and hung them in a tree near our feeder, where the birds were sure to notice them.

It's always nice when your cooking is appreciated. 

When the food is devoured and they come back for more, it's better than 5 stars on the internet.

Consider these photos visual testimonials.

Of course, there's Winterberry for desert.

Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday

and Saturday's Critters

Feathered Feast

Thanksgiving is behind us, and the company's gone; 

the patter of little feet and squeals of delight are only a happy memory.

Our Thanksgiving meal was a little different than the traditional feast, but not unlike what the first pilgrims ate; 

we had venison, potatoes and rhubarb pie.  

History may not record whether or not they had rhubarb pie at that first Thanksgiving, 

but if they didn't, they should have.  It's our favorite.

There's a belated Thanksgiving feast going on in the old dogwood tree outside our window.  

A flicker came early, dressed in his black polkadots and bow tie, 

the bright red heart on the back of his neck matching the berries he came to eat.

Cedar waxwings arrived in small groups, the tips of their tails freshly dipped in red and yellow wax.

This celebration doesn't happen every year.  

Often, the squirrels strip the berries before the birds consider them ripe enough to eat.  

But this year, there's a bumper crop of acorns, 

and the squirrels are far too occupied with their favorite nuts to dine on dogwood berries.

When the biggest bird on the block, the pileated woodpecker, dropped by, the other birds scattered.

 He didn't stay long, but picked up his carry out and flew away.

Just one more bite of those sweet morsels and the bluebird flew away, too.  

I expect they'll all be back; there's plenty of berries left on the tree.

When opportunity knocks, you'd better open your beak.

Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday