Birds, Birds and More Birds

This morning, a black-headed grosbeak, with his Barbra Streisand nose, sat on a post cap on the deck and waited for me to bring out the seed feeders. We have the hangers placed in such a way that the squirrels cannot get to them, so it took me a while to fish for the hanger. I had to use a wire with a hook bent on the end to retrieve the one the grosbeak was waiting for. Before I could even get the feeder up, he was on one of the perches. I believe he would take a sunflower out of my hand if I offered it, which I may do next time. The other evening I noticed that he, or one of the others like him, has taken up residence in one of the bluebird boxes. Not what I had intended it for, but it has been unoccupied so I guess the grosbeak has claimed squatter's rights.

As soon as the grosbeak lit, but before I could get the second feeder hung up, two white-breasted nuthatch had joined in feeding on the first one I'd put up. These are the early feeders. Next come the pygmy nuthatches and the first wave of the pine siskins. Before the morning is over, the pine siskins will have taken over both feeders, occupying every perch and fighting with each other for position. There are even some pushy males who will fly at the feeding siskins, in hopes of scaring them from their perch. If the feeding bird is shy, this tactic works, but usually, they stand their ground.

By this time, the feeders are about half empty, and the level of the seed will have dropped below the upper feeding holes. Birds will continue to perch near these holes, and I have seen the pine siskin peck at the side of the clear feeders, as if they think if they try hard enough, they can get to the seed they can plainly see. It seems to frustrate them, and I usually try to keep the level above all the feeding holes. Often a pygmy nuthatch will just go right inside the feeder to get at the seed. They are small enough to thread themselves through the feeding holes, but sometimes they can't get out. More than once, I've had to fish the feeder in with my hooked wire, and open the top to let the pygmies fly out that way. So far, we have not had one die inside the feeder, but it's a concern.

As the day wears on, the hummingbirds become more active. We have rufous and broad-tailed hummers, primarily. Neither of these are birds found in Texas, so it delights me to have them here on the nectar feeders in New Mexico. They fight constantly for control of the juice. The rufous are especially feisty, as well as especially small. They are sometimes called Lucifer, and once you see them in flight you can understand why. They are flame colored, and look like little flying orange and yellow balls of fire. They have fiery personalities as well.

One likes to perch on the eagle tip of our flag pole. From that vantage point he can watch both the feeders we have hung from the porch rafters. One of the rufous got so controlling, that I was forced to hang a third feeder around the corner by the back door, so that he could not possibly guard all three feeders at once. Now he  is constantly in flight in his efforts to keep the other hummers off of his "newest" juice source. Since I added the third feeder we have been overrun with other hummingbirds. We counted twelve on one of the small porch feeders. It only had four feeding holes, so there was a constant battle going on. They chatter and divebomb each other. They like the green glass feeder the best, which I find odd, since I don't put color in my juice. I had always been of the impression they are drawn to red feeders. Not so here. Although, the other day I was wearing one of my flowery house dresses and two hummingbirds apparently mistook me for a big flower. Both seemed to want to feed on my dress.

These hummers aren't interested in the pansy blooms. I have decided pansies have probably been so hybridized that the flavor, or maybe even the nectar, has been bred out of them. I have seen the hummers pierce the tomato blossoms, and the wild penstemon in the yard seems to be another favorite. None of the flowers, however, can compare with the juice in the feeders. They go wild for it.

In the evening, just before dusk, the crows, or more correctly ravens, began to fly up the mountain to roost. All day long they fill the air with their cacophony of calls. They have one that sounds like a quacking duck. I think that must be some kind of mating call, because one was doing it on a nearby limb with a female standing beside him. After making the call for a while, he jumped on her back. Jumped on and then off, immediately. It didn't seem long enough to do any actual mating, but perhaps it was a quickie. Anyway, in the evening there seems to be one bird who calls the others up the mountain. I fancy that one being the imam yelling "Allah!" It kind of sounds like that, a call to evening prayer. They respond by the hundreds, and take a full thirty minutes to all make the flight up the mountain to their mysterious roost.

The acorn woodpeckers have not been active lately, which suits me. They disrupt everything with their rude intrusions. They get on top of the hummingbird feeders and try to stick their bills in the holes. They don't succeed but they do cause the feeder to swing violently and spill juice out onto the ground below. We try to keep it as neat as possible around here to prevent bear incursions. We take in all the feeders at night. We have done this ever since a bear got to one of the peanut butter suet feeders back in June. The bear broke through the gate we have at the top of the spiral stairway that comes onto the porch. It took one afternoon to repair the gate, so we have not put out the suet feeder since then. I have another cake of peanut butter suet in the refrigerator, but think I'll wait until bear season is over to put it out again.

We also have Stellar's Jays, a gaudy bird with a Carmen Miranda topknot. They are a quiet bird, but I imagine that they can secretly speak Spanish. Their colors are beautiful, dusky blue and black. They're big but shy, usually choosing to feed on the millet and corn the other birds throw out on the ground. They will fly at an instant if either of us steps out the door. The other birds that feed on the ground surplus are the doves and the ravens, and also a half-tame doe we have named Crazy Sally. She seems to be an outcast from the neighborhood herd that roams around here.

I like to think we live in a bird sanctuary. It often seems that way. The birds don't seem to mind it when we join them out on the deck. They seem oblivious to the dog, too, and anyway, she's too busy trying to see squirrels in the trees. It's almost like the birds know this. One pygmy nuthatch who was perched on the waterer yesterday, even let the dog touch her nose to its tail before it flew away. I have had a pygmy take seed from my hand, just a touch-and-go that lasted maybe a second.

Some of the other birds we have that occasionally make forays through the mountains are red-wing blackbirds who come by the hundreds. Also little chipping sparrows who stopped here for a few months on their migration early last spring. We have had two or three mountain bluebirds, but they never seem to stay long on this mountain. We often see them in the valley, along with the meadowlarks and magpies. I wish they could come reclaim their boxes, but maybe there's just too much competition for them here. And anyway, we really do have enough birds to watch.

Onward ....

I Think It's About Forgiveness

“There are people in your life who’ve come and gone,

They let you down, you know they hurt your pride.

You better put it all behind you; life goes on

You keep carrying that anger; it’ll eat you up inside.”

Don Henley, “The Heart of the Matter”

One of the hardest parts of life, I believe, is learning to forgive. But it is also one of the greatest gifts that you can give -- to yourself. 

There’s that friend from high school who turned out not to be the best friend you thought she was, who when it came down to it, was more interested in her own well-being than in yours. There’s your mother who didn’t treat you the way you thought you deserved to be treated, who didn’t give you the respect you thought you had coming to you, whether or not you had earned it. There’s the uncle-in-law who looked down his nose at you, as if you were poor white trash, who diminished you with his contempt. There’s the husband who decided he didn’t want to share his life with you anymore, and the son who blamed you for all the things that are wrong in his world. If you just hadn’t moved him around so much he would be a better person.

Lying in bed at night, letting these things simmer, keeping you from sleep, wishing you could have those moments back. Oh, the things you could say to all these people, now that you have had the time to think it over, formulate the great comeback, the tear-down, the thing that would make them see how wrong they are to have done the things they have done to you, or said about you, or assumed about you, or attributed to you.

But then maybe there comes a time when you are able to take a step back, to look more deeply into the resentment, or just plain anger, that you feel, when you are able to see into another person, and realize that your mother wasn’t able to love you like you thought she should, that it just wasn’t in her to, that she did the best she could with what she had. Or you see that the friendship was only in your eyes not the other person’s, that it was your misconception of the relationship between you, and that people are fallible, often dishonest, and most of the time, self-serving. It’s easier for most people to shift blame away from themselves, but shifting that blame sometimes leaves a nasty void.

For me there came a time, a restless, sleepless night, when I was pouring back over the disappointments in my life, the trust I gave away, trust I felt had been betrayed. I was lamenting over the loss of so many years in a marriage that had fallen apart. It was oh woe is me, and how could he do that to me, and I gave him everything, and I didn’t deserve this. And maybe all of that was partly true, but there were also some deeper truths that I was having a hard time digging down to. I was focused on his shortcomings, trying to reason the whole thing along, how he had always been selfish, had given up on our life, had taken away the security I thought I had earned. And maybe it was that word “security” that finally opened a door. 

I do believe that security, that feeling of rightness it gives us, is a fine thing, but it isn’t everything. While I working through all the things that had happened to get me to where I was at that moment, trying to find reason in the insanity that seemed to be my life right then, it struck me that, yes, he was weak. He had given in to his own desires, had fallen in love with someone else. And maybe he couldn’t help that those things had happened to him, that maybe he’d had a hard time working through the guilt of jerking the rug out from under us. But even while these things were crystallizing in my mind, it came to me that he was not the only one with weaknesses, and that the kernel that had spelled our doom might have been planted in our beginnings. Because I knew, had always known, that I married him for all the wrong reasons. That I had never been able to love him the way he needed for me to, just like my own mother had failed me with her inability to give me the love I thought I deserved. 

And so the peace that comes from forgiveness of someone else is magnified tenfold by the peace that comes if we can forgive ourselves. We so often do all the wrong things for all the right reasons. I think it must be some deep-seated part of being human. That night, lying in the dark room reliving my past, I began to make sense of things, what had happened, and why.

I had a child when I was still a child myself. Yet the first time I held that child in my arms, a feeling of such utter responsibility for him swept over me. No matter what happened to me after that moment, I had this child to raise and I harbored a lot of self-doubt that I could do it. And when my first, rushed marriage failed, so predictably, I set aside my grief, didn’t even take a good hard look at it, or what it all meant for my own life. I was more determined to do the right thing by this child. I am not trying to rewrite history, this is simply the truth. And this determination coupled with self-doubt caused me to make some bad decisions. I married the first man who came along, the first one whom I thought would, and could, take care of me and my child. I thought he would save us. I liked him a lot; he had a good heart. I didn’t really understand him, or even try to. I was looking out for my own interests. I needed a daddy for my baby, and he seemed as good a fit as any.

If there was ever a recipe for disaster, there it was. I can look back more honestly and clearly at the scared little girl that I was then. I was more afraid to fail as a mother than I was to cast my own desires aside. The real surprise is that we were able to keep this tenuous life together for 34 years. We were never right for each other. He needed things I couldn’t give him, and I settled for less than I really wanted. We had no common interests. We lied to ourselves and to the rest of the people in our world that we were happy, until finally the security blanket I had wrapped around myself began to come unraveled.

As I laid there in that dark bedroom, I knew I had to forgive him for not being able to sustain the lie any longer. I had to do that so I could let go of the anger and betrayal I had been feeling with such intensity. I had to forgive him for me, for my sake, so I could move on with my life. But more importantly, and with even more difficulty, I had to forgive myself for the part I had played by settling for less. 

Maybe this is on my mind now because of an article I’m writing for a gardening magazine. Or maybe it’s because of the company we owned together so recently closing down -- which has become almost a metaphor for the final ending to that part of my life, the last root pulled up. I’m eager to see what happens next, still scared, but eager.

There is much more self-forgiveness that I have yet to work through, some things that are even more complicated than others. We want to hold ourselves to a higher standard, and well we should. But we should also be kind to ourselves. Do the right thing, for the right reasons, and recognize what those reasons are. We need to do this to allow ourselves to find that path to wisdom and self-awareness. I can’t speak for others, but for me, these are lessons that I keep having to learn. And relearn

Onward ....

A Dog's Vacation

First of all, they had me groomed. Now, I like being clean, but I was at the groomer's for two whole hours. I thought they had given me away for sure this time. But my dad came to get me, and I was so relieved. I laid my head on his shoulder the whole entire way home. He kept smiling and saying words I didn't understand. He stuck his nose against my head and sniffed me. I think he liked how I smelled. I was a little bit too perfumed for my own taste.

At home, I watched Dad and Mom walk back and forth with bags and other things in their hands. I could tell they were planning to go somewhere. I hid behind the rocking chair. I thought they forgot me. But then Mom finally picked up my necklace and called my name, and I leaped up from my hiding spot, so happy, oh so happy. I WAS GOING! TOO! THEY WERE TAKING ME!

I was pretty sure we weren't going to the post office, probably to the store in the big town or someplace like that. But boy, it sure did take a long time to get there. And it was so hot. I couldn't believe how hot it was. I needed drink after drink. We got out for lunch at an empty place with lots of birds and truck going by, it was noisy, and I drank so much water. Dad gave me a pinch of his sandwich. It sure did taste great.

We got back in the car and drove for -- I don't know how long. I was really bored. We stopped at four different strange room places. I had trouble finding a comfortable spot to sleep in the first two, but the third one had a hidey-hole under a table by where my mom was snoring. I sure did hear funny things all night long. But each morning THEY TOOK ME WITH THEM, and I was so happy, for a little while, to be back in the car. I drove with them, watching the road. We got out at lots of places with odd smells everywhere. I'm pretty sure there were squirrels at most of them. One time I saw a rabbit and shot after it. I was with my mom that time so I didn't get fussed at for running hard. She laughs when I run. I like that a lot. Another place we stopped had lots of stones standing straight up and Mom and Dad kept stopping to look at each one of them. They seemed lost. And then a little dog with hair in his eyes ran over to play with me. He hiked his leg a few times, and I covered his smell with mine as soon as he moved. It was so much fun. Then we got back in the car and drove and drove and drove.

We finally stopped for a long time at a house with a crabby little dog that wanted all the attention. I let her have it for a while, but then I got tired of no petting for myself and started scooting in between her and the people. I tried very hard to make friends with her, even invited her to play one time, but she just snarled at me, and growled. For some reason she just did not like me. Except when we went for walks. Then we got along pretty well. She was good at synchronizing our steps, and we stayed out on the end of our leashes side by side. It was so much fun taking those walks, there just weren't enough of them.

Oh, one time while we were there, the people loaded us up in cars and we went to this neat park. It was full of squirrels. I kept forgetting I was on a leash and nearly strangled myself a few times going for those squirrels. I could have caught one, too, if it hadn't been for that leash. My dad usually lets me off the leash when we go to neat parks, but for some reason, he didn't do it then. I even missed running after a bunny rabbit that came out in an opening. We kept having to dodge all these tumped over trees, too. I couldn't figure out why those trees were all laying on the ground like they were. It was weird. Oh, I forgot to mention that one night we had all those horrible rumbles that shake the earth. I hate those like anything. They scare me to death. I wished so much to be home under my dad's desk. I couldn't find a good place to hide from those rumbles, and that other dog kept coming to bother me. She didn't even seem to see the flashes of light outside the windows.

After we had been at that house for a long long time, Mom and Dad started carrying bags again and going in and out of doors. I hid in a corner. I hoped hard that they were not giving me away to these new people and their little cranky dog. But then Mom jangled my necklace. I WAS GOING! THEY WERE TAKING ME WITH THEM! I was so excited Mom had to talk deep and loud to remind me to sit. I hate when that happens. I just get carried away sometimes. I did not even need my leash I was so excited to be leaving that place, even though they did have a nice backyard full of fast tree squirrels. I jumped right in the car when Mom opened the door.

We drove and drove again, and I figured out pretty quick that we were not going to the post office or even to the store in the big town. I got really bored. That back seat is not comfortable for sleeping, even though my mom had put a new cushion back there for me. I just couldn't sleep good in the car. Or in the two strange room places where we stopped. One of those places was just loaded with smells. I couldn't find a spot to lay where some other dog at some other time had already lain. I was pretty miserable all night.

Then we got to another place where I thought we were might stay for a while. There was a little curly haired puppy dog there that was just over the moon for me right from the moment I jumped out of the car. She raced around and around me, and I could tell she liked me. I let her smell me in places I usually growl at, but she was so little and cute, and fun to play with at first. We raced around with each other, and when I made my play moves, she just went wild for it. I liked that little brown puppy a lot. At first. After a while, though, she started getting on my nerves, always wanting to play, nipping at me. I finally had to snap at her to put her in her place. She just wouldn't take no for an answer.

This new place was out in the country and the new lady and my mom and dad walked all around with me and the bouncing puppy following. They had a pier with fish in the water, and gosh those fish were big. I wanted to jump in that water after those fish so bad. But then I saw two big dogs across the lake, so I raced over to meet them. My dad was hollering at me, but I just had to go see who they were. As soon as I got close to them, I knew I had made a BIG mistake. For no reason in the world, they both jumped on me and started growling and barking and biting me, and one got me in the water and was trying to grab my neck, and I really thought for a minute I was going to drown, but my dad came shouting and saved me. Except I could tell he was really mad. It scares me when he gets so angry and fusses at me. I didn't know what I had done. It was those mean dogs who had caused all the trouble.

I was covered with mud and my mom was crying. I felt so bad that she was crying. I let my dad wash me with the cold outside water hose. For Mom's sake, I tried to pretend I wasn't hurt so she would stop crying, but I was hurt, a little. I had some sore places around my neck, but Mom didn't feel them. She took off my collar and loved me and spoke something in her sweet babytalk voice, and took me inside to dry me off with a towel. I just love to hear her babytalk. It made me feel so much better. Boy, was I really glad when we left that place.

Then we went back to that old old house in the country where I used to live before Mom came. But I don't like it there anymore. I remember that there are snakes there and I hate snakes so much. I can't even relax when I'm there for worrying about snakes. I got bit once or twice and it hurt worse than anything. I thought I was going to die when I got bit. I stayed under the table the whole time. It seemed like we were there forever. The only fun time was when Mom took me with her over to the old man's house. I recognized his house as soon as we turned in the driveway and started whining. My favorite friend in the whole world lives there, and she was SO happy to see me. She's about the same size as me except she is brown and white striped and I'm just black. We ran and played and raced around the back yard until we were exhausted. Then we went inside for a big drink and took a nap on the cold floor. That was the only time while we were back in that hot old country place that I was happy. The next day Mom and Dad started carrying bags and things in and out of the door. I hoped they weren't going to leave me there, in that place where I am so sad and lonely and cramped. I was still sore from those mean dogs and I was not feeling too good. But then Mom picked up my necklace, and I was so happy. THEY WERE TAKING ME WITH THEM!!!!

We went back in the car and we didn't go to the post office. We stopped in a strange room place after hours and hours on the road. I really didn't like this room place at all. There were noises all night and I kept having to bark at things, which made my dad angry with me. I tried to let him know that I couldn't help myself, but he just won't understand these things. I hid under the table all night, and then Mom and Dad started carrying bags in and out of the door again. If they left me at this terrible place I just didn't know what I would do. But then Mom got my necklace. I WAS GOING!!!

I heard Mom telling Dad that I was the best-traveled dog she bet of all the dogs in the whole world. I didn't know much about that, or about the many many places we had been. I didn't know even why we had to go to any of them, and I wasn't too happy about a single place where we stopped. Except for the last place! HOME! We went home. I never thought I would see that place again, but there it was, and I could tell as soon as my feet hit the ground that all my squirrels were as happy to see me again as I was them. I chased them up and down the deck all afternoon. It was great to be home......

(Onward....)