Maybe a month or so before the world turned upside down, we decided to move our neglected birdfeeder from the back yard (which we rarely see) to the front lawn. Now it is clearly visible through the big window in front of the table where we eat all our meals. It has become an endless source of entertainment and amusement to us.
My father enjoyed birds and chipmunks. He used to train the chipmunks to eat out of his hand, and there are pictures of him with birds perched on his fingers, too. Growing up, we always had a birdfeeder in the back yard, visible from the dining room window. We fed them all manner of scraps and leftovers, and put out the occasional suet ball as a treat for them in the wintertime. I can picture a red-headed woodpecker clinging upside down to that ball, which was suspended from the clothesline, with his tail wrapped up on the other side for balance as he pecked away at the suet and the seeds embedded within.
We have quite a variety of birds at our feeder, which is mostly designed for our smaller feathered friends but the larger ones are ingenious at getting their share, too. It is very popular, though, with the squirrels. The feeder is suspended from a metal “shepherd’s crook”-style pole implanted in the ground. From my upstairs office, I would often hear something that sounded like the lid of a ceramic teapot rattling and I’d look out to see an industrious squirrel clinging to the pole with one rear foot while it stretched across to the feeder tray and scooped up as much as he could get before he lost his balance and fell to the ground, at which point he’d act like nothing happened and go about his business combing the grass for seeds that had fallen from the feeder–mostly on account of his acrobatics. (We laughingly called him — or her — a pole dancer.)
However, we were going through bird seed at quit a clip, and weren’t entirely sure the birds were getting their fair share, so my wife decided to grease the pole. We wanted to use something that wouldn’t be harmful, so we settled on Crisco shortening. Then we watched.
It was exactly as entertaining as we’d hoped. A squirrel (we haven’t been able to say for sure which one is which, but we have at least three regular visitors to our front yard) was pecking away at the ground. We could see him looking up at the feeder and the pole from time to time and suddenly he made his attempt. He leaped at the pole, arriving at a point about three feet above the ground, and immediately slid back down to the ground like a fireman. Again, he went back to his regular routine as if nothing untoward had happened.
Since then we’ve had to regrease it a couple of times, but we’re always entertained by the squirrels’ occasional attempts to get at the treasure trove of seeds. We can almost see them working up to it. Sometimes they approach with determination and we know that squirrel is about to try. Other times, it almost like they’re trying to catch it by surprise, suddenly spinning and leaping, only to slide back down again.
Don’t worry — the squirrels aren’t starving. The birds scatter enough seeds from the feeder to keep them occupied. Among the small birds we’ve seen are chickadees, finches and wrens. The feeder is perfect for them, and we’ve often seen five or six perched on it at the same time. Larger birds include robins, bluebirds, cardinals and one ferocious and determined mourning dove that likes to perch on the top of the shepherd’s crook and engage in rumbles with the squirrels. They stare each other down as they try to lay claim to the same patch of grass, darting at each other. Last night, the mourning dove (they’re normally ground feeders) tried to perch on the little tray of the birdfeeder. It was hilarious–its pudgy belly got in the way and it had to go in sideways and flap one wing for balance. I think it got some food, but it expended a lot of effort to do so. There are lots of mockingbirds around, but we haven’t yet seen one at the feeder. The crows haven’t made a stab at the feeder yet, either.
Just another way we’re entertaining ourselves during these crazy, mixed-up days.
I’ve been a fan of Elton John and his music since the mid-70s. I’ve seen him in concert numerous times (the first and most memorable was at Wembley Stadium in June 1984) and his music has been the soundtrack to much of my life. So, when my buddy Stephen Spignesi asked if I would be interested in contributing an essay to his book Elton John: Fifty Years On The Complete Guide to the Musical Genius of Elton John and Bernie Taupin, I said yes without hesitation.