The squirrel was jerking back and forth uncontrollably in the grass. I was really worried about it. Had it got caught in some wire or a line?
I had thrown a thin branch into the grass from the garden and the squirrel was grabbing it and twirling under it and at one point it jumped straight up, at least half a foot, into the air.
And then I understood. It wasn’t caught or hurt. It was having fun.
The starlings are skittish and neurotic, acting like they are part of The Three Stooges; while the common grackle lands far away from the suet and seed, and confidently saunters over like he is inspecting the place and giving it a once over.
The white-throated sparrow made an unexpected visit to the bird feeder today. He appeared with his jaunty striped racing helmet on, looking like he was ready for the Tour de France.
The red-winged blackbirds were noisily playing a game of hide and seek in the bushes by the bay; while the Hungarians were having a friendly contest with the Poles, of ‘who-can-catch-the-most-fish?’ on the other side.
Being human, it is so hard not to judge the behaviour of the birds.
When the male cardinal feeds his wife, it is beautiful and touching. And when the cowbird spends half an hour in the feeder on the window because she has nothing better to do because another bird is raising her young, she is selfish and despicable.