Watching the birds

Sunny day on the back porch. The hum of lawnmowers down the street. Me, sitting here with a cup of coffee, trying to think of something to write--because there's nothing, absolutely nothing--just watching the birds.

They wait their turns at the feeder, for the most part: the downy woodpecker, then the black-capped chickadees, and the frenetic (and upside-down-hanging) nuthatches. Later come the spectacularly yellow goldfinches. We don't get the orioles or rose-breasted grosbeaks our neighbors do, but they're still close enough for us to hear their beautiful songs (those of the birds, not the neighbors). And occasionally we get a reddish purple finch which my bird guide calls a "chunky" bird ("What, they couldn't tell about my beautiful color, or my sweet song? They need to describe me as CHUNKY?!").

And I wonder why the squirrels haven't been more relentless about converging on the feeder. They crawled up the pole, at first, until I fashioned a pathetic obstacle (in squirrel-fighting language, it's called a baffle) of a red Frisbee from the dollar store. One half of it sports the teethmarks of the first, determined squirrels, but then nothing.

I remember my dad's battles with the squirrels. They were epic. He tried home-crafted baffles; he tried greasing the pole; he even used his electrician background to provide a very mild shock (not all of these, obviously, are PETA-approved). Dad's plans often were so elaborate, I'm pretty sure NASA called him from time to time for some pointers on their engineering challenges.

But, no matter what gauntlet my dad threw down, eventually the squirrels would be sitting atop the feeder, just nibbling away. I can't be certain, but I think they were smiling.

And I used to joke with him that it was a bit disconcerting to realize I inherited the genes of a man that could be outsmarted by a squirrel.

Dad's been gone over three years now. Sometimes it seems like yesterday, but more and more it seems like forever.

So now I'm sitting here with a cup of coffee, thinking about my dad, and just watching the birds.