I live on the third floor and have a wonderful view of trees and buildings and cars and sun. There are tons of birds around, sparrows, starlings, pigeons, crows, geese and an occasional seagull. Seagulls don’t come around much because they are scavengers and head toward the garbage heaps about four miles from here.
Geese and crows eat worms and bugs and don’t like bread too much.
Pigeons are fat and lazy and keep themselves at train stations and odd cement squares that separate forks in the road.
So we are left with sparrows and starlings mostly. There are so many in the winter and less in the spring because in the spring there are loads of tasty bugs to be had.
It is now winter and these little fat birds are hanging around in abundance on the wires and posts and roof tops outside my window.
I get around to feeding these marvels at seven in the morning. At least fifty birds are waiting and another twenty five stop by after the initial feeding frenzy for crumbs on the sidewalk and whole pieces on the windowsill.
Out the window I throw at least eight cut up slices of bread every day in winter for my birdy friends, then I shut the window tightly. Bird TV has begun. My two kitties’ arrange themselves like statues in front of the window and I sipping tea sit at my table and watch the show.
Bobbing and weaving and fighting and cooperating birds muscling around for their fair share of free bread. The kitties try and pounce at the chubby and plump starlings. After realizing they can’t get through the window they sit and watch.
This is our everyday morning routine. Me and my two cats and a show of feathers, wings, little legs and beaks. Brown and black and gold and yellow colors. Chirping voices remind me of the freedom to fly, the hardships overcome and willingness to be brave.
For as long as I live here, I will feed my bird friends every day and enjoy their entertainment. Tweet, tweet, chirp, chirp.
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