Watching
To have the time to sit on a porch just after the rain, when the birds come back out to feast on what has been left for them in the feeders and what may now be wriggling on the ground, is a necessary luxury.
The world is so alive. Cardinals, wrens, finches, the occasional titmouse — a group of starlings I’m not so sure about — do they know that I leave those seeds and nuts there for them? There haven’t always been bird feeders.
Have they become conditioned to finding tubes of food? Do those feeders make them less likely to find food on their own? Are they dependent on it like we have become dependent on things like electronic navigation systems and devices that tell us when we’ve taken enough steps for the day?
Nah. Instincts take a long time to evolve out of a thing. Don’t they? Silly me. Here I am, worrying about the birds and wondering if they need me.
Recommended reading: Margaret Renkl’s Late Migrations: A Natural History of Love and Loss.
I love to sit on the balcony and watch the birds. Their lives seem so simple and they are not burdened with responsibility. But of course they have the responsibility to find food, reproduce and defend their nests against intruders. I envy them because they can fly ♥️
Love it! Of course they need you as does the rest of the world.