Embracing small joys in troubled times

Songbirds. I've read one scary story after another about the songbird population being in danger. That may be true further south, but it's certainly not true around here. Here they wake you in the morning and serenade you in the evening... I don't know much about birds. While we keep feeders, my expertise is limited. A blue bird with a comb is a bluejay. A blue bird without a comb is probably a bluebird. The yellow birds will be American goldfinch. Some birds are more enjoyable than others. The red-winged blackbird is pretty enough but quite obnoxious, and its call more a warning to any other birds; "stand down, I'm coming in!" Starlings are worse - just as obnoxious, but tend to travel in large packs. Having them descend on the feeders is like a biker gang terrorizing a small town. And they're really smart too. There's not room for the entire gang to roost on the feeders, so the half dozen on the feeders deliberately dump everything out for their buddies on the ground. Yup, twenty bucks of sunflower seeds and cracked corn gone in five minutes. I picked up an air-pistol at Canadian Tire to guard the feeders. By the second day, all I had to do was wave it in the air and the starlings got their tail-feathers the heck outta there, that's how quick they learn. About five or six years ago a bird built a nest in the roof over the stoop. It's come back every year since to nest in the same place. It's occurred to me that this can't possibly be the same bird who built the first nest six years ago. How do the children or grandchildren of the original nest-buildrs know where to go? I guess it's the same internal mechanisms that tell them how to get to Florida or Mexico every winter. This year the nest building began while there was still snow on the ground. Early last week I heard the faint peeps of fledglings. By now it's a cacaphony every time Mama comes in with a fresh worm, which is, on average, every two minutes. Life goes on...