Of Steelhead & Dippin' Dots
You know, it’s awfully hard to be optimistic some days. As I write this piece I can hear the wind outside; not your run of the mill gentle breeze, but the kind of wind which makes your house rattle loudly and shudder with each and every successive gust. I have a large spruce growing just outside my door. I love it. The chickadees do too and use it as they dart back and forth between the feeders grabbing sunflower seeds, then quickly escaping back into the dense cover of the branches. Not because they are scared when people or the cats are sitting out on the deck (they’re not). They know the people dole out the free seed. And the cats well... they’re just fat and slow and the chickadees know it judging by their antics. The cooper's hawk is a different story. She’s taken to hiding high up in a nearby maple, launching periodic aerial assaults on any unsuspecting bird foolish enough to sit for more than a few seconds on one of the feeders. The chickadees are the tacticians,...