Purposeful birds whistle and pop, their sounds different, and very real, they harbor in to the birdhouse and the trough in the sun, and catch the falling food from the feeder.
Tiny starlings strut about looking like the ones who need to be beat.
Mourning doves approach in pairs, limiting themselves to the ground where the others shake the food free to get that bite of sunflower seed.
The bright red cardinal and its little brown mate, circle in and land on the clothesline pole, and they make quick and hurried moves, and then they are off.
The cow birds are black and their beaks a glossy yellow, followed by two grazers who sit up on the pole and open their beaks and cry their cry wanting food put in their mouths. Their bigger than the parent, and look funny as they stand and wiggle and cry, and they fly together to get to where they are going. Like grown children still waiting to be fed.
The humming birds have left the feeders, and now flit and fly and feed on the sugar of the honeysuckle, taking a small drink then head to the next flower.
The sky is whirling and making dark clouds, the weather looking unsettled, each bird, flitting and fluttering and their whistles and calls seem more fervent, and their need to feed great still.
Watch the rain fall, each one hidden beneath the leaves of robust trees, out in that avast, that is a yard.
Ralph Peck
Photography by Marla Bolton
Eufala Oklahoma
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