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Finally,
March is here! Now I can really feel the spring in the air.
Last
month I was sitting in the parlor looking out the windows at the tan
dirt-cover which used to be grass. I looked at the bare Gold Mound
Spirea twigs, the matted mess covering what once was a lush green
Agapanthus. I wondered how much longer I was going to be tortured with
these sites of near death in Mother Nature’s cycle of life.
Then,
all of a sudden, I received my answer! Not one second more! A flock of
about 40 to 50 robins flew onto the lawn and started hopping and
scratching. The thatch was flying all over as they pecked and poked in
the grass looking for food! It was so entertaining to watch them work.
It is their job to do this, you know.
I
must have watched those skinny little robins for a half-an-hour before
they took flight. They are here to stay now. Here for a long while. My
early spring friends are de-worming my yard, picking up small twigs I
overlooked and bringing in the shredded litter of Wal-Mart plastic sacks
from down the street to build their nests.
I
have an old Eastern Red Cedar tree over there beside my driveway. It
attracts all kinds of birds this time of year. Today, I got to enjoy a
flock of Cedar Waxwings. There must have been 200 of them in the trees
plucking the juniper berries from the branches. Some of the birds were
on the ground, policing the occasional dropped fruits. Nothing wasted!
How efficient they are in their tasks, I thought. How do they choose who
collects from the ground and who gathers from the tree?
March
is mating season for my garden birds. The male cardinals are wooing
their mates at the bird feeders. You can see them coming. First the
female then the male, who stays a short distance behind to watch for
predators and such, approach the sunflower seeds. (Sometimes I think he
stays behind in order to admire his chosen one from afar.) He picks up a
sunflower seed, cracks it open with his strong beak and gives her the
prize inside. Sometimes he gets a bit jealous when another male
approaches. But, with a few flogs of his wings and feet and a couple of
hard pecks of his beak, the other boys just move on like testosterous
men at a party after they’ve had too much hooch. |
