TO A MOUSE & BIRD-72

My apologies to the 18th century Scottish poet, Robert Burns, for paraphrasing the title of one of his epic poems. What my essay undertakes to comment on is my experience in 2013 with rats (which are overgrown mice really), squirrels, and the birds that I supply with supplementary victuals in the form of commercially available birdseeds. In spring of 2013 we installed a four perch cylindrical bird feeder, first in our patio, then moved it to the area just outside of our kitchen bay window on the other side of the house. For two days or so the birds were nonplused and as frustrated and confused as their little birdbrains could be. In those inchoate conditions some even flew through the air space where the feeder had been hanging apparently trying to sort out whether their eyes were deceiving them and the feeder was actually still there, but invisible. No, sadly it was gone. Not to be overly concerned – within two to three days our little avian friends discovered its new location. C’est bon - all was now well. Well, actually not completely well – a new species had discovered the free food source. Mr. Rat and his extended family now began feasting on the bounty. I put the seeds out for the birds so, quo jure, did this rodent conclude that he could share in ingesting the seeds? One evening we saw as many as four rats at one time on the feeder or in a small tree next to the feeder waiting their turn. I vowed that putatively this would not do; absolutely would not do. Time to take “arms against a sea of troubles” as the Bard of Avon phrased it. Rat traps were the ticket to end this intrusion on the feeding of the birds, and the more the better. Still, some precaution was in order to prevent trapping the naïve little feathered creatures. The first night I set out four traps on the ground around the feeder, baited with peanut butter. The next morning – nothing. After consulting with our daughter who had experience with birds, rats and such, she suggested using the seeds themselves as bait. The next morning - success. Four traps set out and 4 rats caught; the following morning 4 traps & 3 rats; then 4 traps & again 3 rats; 4 traps 2 rats; and 4 traps 1 rat. All totaled that summer there were 30 rats caught in traps and slain, big, small, & in between, in that area and on the patio where the rats were eating flower petals. I am glad and relieved to say that nary a bird was caught in a trap. I would set the traps out at night after the birds had stopped coming to the feeder and retrieve them early in the morning before the birds had commenced breaking their nightly fast (breakfast). Indeed, to almost quote the late actor James Cagney, those hapless, but far from helpless, dirty rats (Cagney actually said “you dirty, yellow-bellied rat” in a 1932 movie) found out their “best-laid schemes…. Aft gang agley.” Early on when the feeder was transferred to its new location there was another species that was interested in getting to the comestibles. It was a bushy tailed critter known as a “tree rat” or squirrel. These animals have a reputation for being persistent in their endeavors to gain access to food. That reputation is deserved. In particular, one indefatigably risible squirrel made a game and persistent attempt to get on the feeder. First he would try to egress the top of the fence going to the top of the feeder, but the rain guard on the feeder was unstable so he was unsuccessful after multiple tries. Then he would reach out from a limb of a nearby small tree and eventually made it. Not for long. After we pruned any branch from the tree that he could use to access the feeder he was stymied. The fellow returned a couple times in the next few days – all to no avail and apparently realizing that apodictically he would not success, he gave up in abject frustrated failure. Now about the birds. The species that came to the feeder either regularly or sporadically were sparrows, finches, cardinals, blue jays, and mourning doves. The smallest birds (sparrows & finches) often would come in large motley groups of from ½ dozen to a baker’s dozen at the same time. Naturally they would then fight each other for a place on one of the four perches or on the pan at the bottom of the feeder. I tried to get across to them that if they came in fewer numbers at a time there would be more eating and less fighting. I was not successful in conveying this stratagem to them. In this regard they were not unlike miscreant little human children. There was one sparrow that hung out alone at the feeder for hours. After the little bird’s appetite was sated he just sat on a perch on the feeder some times even with his eyes closed. Clearly he felt safe and serene in that location and would not stir until another bird or birds came to the feeder. This went on for weeks until he was seen no more. Likely he was done in by his natural life expectancy or by predation. Later there was a finch that became a semi-permanent resident (in a manner similar to the Arthur Conan Doyle story of the Resident Patient) although at longer intervals and shorter durations than the original sparrow. The cardinals, both male and female, but especially the males, are extremely wary or more judgmentally, cowardly in their reaction to humans even with a number of feet of distance and windows between them and us humans. They would fly away far more quickly and precipitously than other birds. As could be expected, with inclement weather, the bird traffic at the feeder increased and as I have indicated would, at times, become intense. Although usually one or two mourning doves would visit the feeder at the same time, sometimes there were more. One day I counted 5 of them on the feeder, on the fence next to the feeder, or on the ground gathering in the seeds that had dropped or had carelessly been ejected from the feeder by dissipative and undisciplined fellow flying creatures. At one point there was the episode of the male (red) cardinal, overcoming his usual reticence, feeding what was obviously his two offspring. The adult would get a seed or two from the feeder and go to either the nearby top of the fence or a limb of the small tree next to the feeder where the young cardinals were waiting and feed them beak-to-beak. Mr. Cardinal would continue this procedure several times at the same feeding and repeated it over several days. In fact we observed the youngling cardinals getting bigger over this interval of several days (young birds grow really quickly) such that they were fully 2/3 the size of their father by the end of this time with the feathers of one turning increasingly red and the other not. With one appearing to be a male and the other a female and the two almost certainly coming from separate eggs laid within minutes of each other, would they not be considered dizygotic twins? Talk about human parents pushing their overgrown offspring figuratively out of the nest, here was a poor harried and probably not too bright bird father feeding his offspring when clearly the young birds were fully capable of getting their own seeds out of the feeder. This is an obvious example that lazy ingrate offspring are not limited to the human species. Even though birds are not receptive to taking direction and advice they also much refrain from complaining – about anything. Never did I discern any grousing (so to speak) or whining about the type or lack of variety of the proffered provender. Try that with humans, especially teens and tweens. And by that I do not mean seeds, but foodstuffs that some people, normal people, would find tasty and nutritious and come back for 2nd helpings. Although I am not an inveterate birdwatcher whose métier is to go traipsing off into the woods to observe or listen to the many species of these fascinating fowl I do derive some enjoyment and relaxation in occasionally watching them congregate just outside (and I want to emphasize OUTSIDE) our kitchen bay window as they feast and fight and in general act in a termagant manner with their fellow species. Puck, in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, was incomplete when he said “Lord, what fools these mortals be”, referring to humans. He could have included the devilish little creatures in the class: Aves. N’est-ce pas?