For the Birds

 

Hayter for February 25, 2024

 

“For the birds”

This is the first time in my 44 years of being a columnist that I’ve been too sick to write my article. At times I’ve been sick as the proverbial dog, but my brain was still able to come up with something. At the moment I’m one step beyond sick. My COVID kicked up again, and my mind is duller than dirt.

Fortunately, my darling wife has agreed to save my rear by retyping an article that appeared in the Courier 44 years ago. All I can tell you is that it reads like something I’d write. So, Kay, please key in this bubba for me. The next voice you read will be that of a sane “me”.

(February 22, 1980) -- I was getting ready to do some serious writing on politics and foreign policy, but there’s a bunch of birds that won’t let me. You probably don’t call a group of fowl a “bunch,” but these are too disorganized to be a flock and not goosey enough to be a gaggle.

Even though what I originally planned to write was of the utmost importance, it will just have to wait, because these little critters have just disturbed my whole train of thought. I can’t remember seeing this many birds in one place, outside of the zoo. It’s times like this that make me realize how dirty my windows are.

I don’t remember ever seeing a bluebird out here, yet, at the moment, they’re all over the place.  I’m talking bluebirds here, not bluejays. We’ve got enough bluejays for an Alfred  Hitchcock movie.  The bluejay may be a lovely bird, but the ones I know are ill-mannered.  They must leave the nest earlier than most birds and miss out on a lot of parental guidance.

No, these are real orange-chested, blue-backed birds, and right now most of them are getting their jollies hanging onto the side of pine trees. Their toe muscles must be real clinchers.  Kay can pick up dimes with her toes, but I’d like to see her try to hang onto the side of a pine tree.

I’ve noticed that the bluebirds are prettiest while in flight.  When they’re just standing around, you can’t discern the blue well, but while in flight, the sun accents the color.

If you look to the left pine log to your right, you will see two, huge pileated woodpeckers.  At first, I thought they were roadrunners, but the red crest gave them away.  I remember from my forestry classes that these birds were supposed to be almost extinct.  They must be making a comeback.

Woodpeckers have the toughest neck muscles on the planet.  Can you imagine beating your head against a tree all day with your nose? Of course, their noses may be a little harder than ours and I believe they’re supposed to have some kind of shock-absorbing fluid at the base of their skull.  Regardless, it still looks like torture.  If any of them ever got one of my sinus headaches, they’d starve to death.

Right now, there is a tiny bird that is greenish in color except for its yellow chest.  My bird book only has 100 species and chose to ignore this little fellow. So I’ll have to call it a yellow-chested green-bird.  Kay said it was a Western Tanager, but it’s hard to take anyone seriously who determines the make of cars by their color.

The green-bird will come right up to the window and dig around in the flower bed, oblivious to the two lurking figures on the other side of the pane. Oops, there he goes, scared off by a sparrow. Any bird afraid of a sparrow is extinct. My bird book says it’s a chipping sparrow.

I don’t know what it is about birds that makes them so fascinating.  They’re singing all the time, hopping around on the ground, and then flying all over the place as if life is their oyster. Whoever came up with the oyster analogy was lousy with comparisons.

I imagine 90 percent of a bird’s waking hours are spent looking for something to eat while trying not to be eaten themselves.  As jittery as they are I get the impression that they’ve seen a few of their buddies shredded by cats and knocked by BBs. They’re in a constant state of watchfulness. I don’t see how they can digest anything with a nervous gizzard.

If that’s not enough, look at what they’re trying to digest.  We’re talking about the lowest form of animal life -- slimy worms, and bugs.

All in all, it’s great that birds eat what they do because they sure help us out a lot.  I don’t know exactly how many destructive insects your average bird eats in a given day, but it seems like it’s an outlandish amount. I guess birds suffer from the effects of greed just like humans.

This entire spectacle has been quite an education. This year I think I’ll try to get more involved in ornithology. A fascinating subject, birds. Not nearly as exciting as oysters, though.  If you get one of those oysters excited, it’ll, uh, it’ll just lay there. A bad analogy.

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