I recently picked up a new hobby.  I guess you could call it a hobby although to my husband, it would appear to be more like an obsession.  It all began last November when I was making out my Christmas wish list for him.  I started doing this a couple of years ago when I became weary of receiving jumper cables and sexy lingerie as presents.  Really hubby, really?  What do those two things have in common?  Do you want me to stuff my sausage body into a peek-a-boo nightie and wander into the backyard, pop the hood of my car and attempt to jump start the engine?  On second thought, don’t answer that question!

 

Any who, back to my story… out of the blue, I decided to ask for a bird feeder and some birdseed.  On Christmas morning I opened all of my gifts from jolly old St. Nick (which included a Kindle).  It was in the afternoon that I remembered wanting that birdfeeder and I casually told old Santy Claws about my wish.  Faster than the reindeer click, click, clicking on the rooftop, he dashed into the basement and returned triumphantly with my forgotten gifts of a birdfeeder and 25 pounds of birdseed.

 

My coveted treasure was hung from the front porch awning and I assumed a perch (yes, bad pun intended) in the living room, anticipating the arrival of my feathered friends.  I waited and I waited and I waited – for weeks.  The darn birds snubbed me.  I was beginning to despair (yes, I despair quite easily and frequently).  I lamented (yes, I also lament on a regular basis) to my husband that I didn’t think the birds liked me and that they would NEVER visit our house.  There may have been sniffles and dramatic sighs involved here but I will never tell.  “I just wish the birds would stop by and eat some of this %$*($#@! birdseed!” I exclaimed. 

 

Now listen kids, here is a lesson to be learned.  Be careful what you wish for. A bird showed up in January and cautiously perched on my birdfeeder.  He dipped his little beak into feeder and realized that he had struck pure gold!  He began to twitter and chatter and bam!  The word was out!  “Come to the Pollocks!  It’s an all-you-can-eat buffet and it’s FREE!”  Well, birds of a feather flock together and let me tell you, the birds began to flock to our house quicker than you can say “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!”  Birds of all shapes, sizes and colors invaded my porch.  I was soon schlepping outside to fill the feeder several times a day.  If the feeder became empty, my little feathered friends would begin to complain and voice their displeasure.  They surrounded the house, jibber jabbering at me from all angles until I would give them their food fix.

 

The birds are actually kind of ungrateful, much like teenagers, they ignore when me when I venture outside with my camera to take photos of them.  (The actual purpose I envisioned when I asked for the birdfeeder.)  They scurry away so fast that all I can see is the flutter of their wings.  They retaliate at being forced to leave the seed buffet by pooping on my car.  They don’t want to be my friend.  They don’t want to hang out with me.  I am sure that they roll their eyes when they spy me emerging from the house with my camera strapped to my neck.  I made the mistake of buying a bag of cheap birdseed and they pecked through it and tossed the stuff they didn’t like onto the floor of my porch.  I learned my lesson, let me tell you.  I upgraded the food – and had my spouse move the feeder into the yard.

 

Our cat Precious is very grateful that we now have friends over on a regular basis.  She sneaks out of the house when we open the door and hides in the rose bushes.  She watches the chickadees, the cardinals, the robins, the doves and blackbirds devour the birdseed and licks her lips and dreams of one of them becoming too greedy and overfed that they can’t fly. Confession time - I really dislike the blackbirds.  They are bullies and pigs.  I will open my door and sing to them:  “Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.”  I suspect they are the bombdroppers on my car.

 

And me?  Well, I am patiently waiting for the little birdies to be my friends.  For now I am forced to take photos through my living room window.  They are still skittish and fly away when I open the door and try to get close to them.  I have made headway though, they will actually listen to me when I talk to them (unlike teenagers!).  Yes, it’s true; I am now a bird whisperer, too.  My husband recently caught me in the act of “conversing” with the birds.  He was little shocked but I don’t know why – I mean, he caught me talking to deer, chipmunks and squirrels – is he really surprised that I am communicating with birds?  His reaction to all of this has been to call me “The Crazy Birdwoman.”  He just better be thankful that there are no crocodiles or alligators down at the creek…