The Feeder

I put up a bird feeder in March, before the season. Because I like to be ready, and being ready is a personality trait I've decided I have.

Nobody came for two weeks, and I did what any reasonable person does, which is I started checking things. The seed. The water. The height. The height is a guess, but an informed one, and the birds don't know I'm guessing, which I think works in my favor.

Then a chickadee showed up one morning, and I wasn't in the yard. I was in the kitchen, and I was not fast, and I will be forever. I move like a man about to miss a chickadee, and the chickadee knows this.

My son asked if I talk to the birds. And I don't. I talk to my wife, about the birds. Those are different things, and I'm not going to apologize for either one.

The squirrel figured out the feeder on day one and has made improvements since. The birds came back in April. The squirrel has a system now. I've tried to outthink him twice. He has not been outthought, but I have not given up, and the feeder is full, and the water is clean, and I am ready.