Saturday, August 13, 2011

Tweeters . . .

Have I blogged about how much I love the birds in the backyard?  Have I confessed to how ANCIENT that makes me feel?  It's like a secret, hidden thing that I enjoy.   I'm accepting the whatever.  I've been down on myself for failed friendships lately.  I feel like I should come with a warning.  Something like, "I might seem like I'd be a good friend, but trust me, things will get screwed up.  I have thin skin.   Bash me all you want, but don't go there with my kids."  Or maybe something more to the point like, "Don't even think about befriending me.  I will bring you heartache."

Anyway, I can be friends with the birds.





3 comments:

Homestead said...

Are these seriously just hanging out in your backyard? I loved my feeder by the kitchen window but the cats were using it as a baiting station and the deer shredded part of my deck rail climbing up to eat of it. So I gave up.

We sometimes have beautiful bluebirds here.

Elle said...

Yeppers . . these are my backyard buddies. I thought it might be a really, really bad idea -- bird-dog owners and all, but she just likes to look. She points them and lets us know when there is a flock . . . usually 15 or more at one time, and Tana can't control her impulses. Some of them are not bothered by her at all. They get very close to each other. This morning, one of the magpies took her kong stuffed with dogfood. I thought there would be war . . but nobody got hurt!

AZ Girl said...

Ever since my "D" (death) day...birds have brought on a new meaning. They are my window to the other side. I have numerous stories to tell, but I don't feel like typing that much. However, I am going to share two stories. When my Rottie died, two days later a bird came into the studio with a bad right leg. Sat in the sun on the rug until Matt showed up...then flew away. Our Rottie died of bone cancer (right leg). When my Father was "freed" from all the tubes and machines and I was at home waiting for the dreaded call...a finch flew into the patio door...looked at me...looked away...looked at me...looked away and flew off. At that time, my stomach did a full somersault and I started crying and my phone started ringing...My Dad was born a true red head and this was a red headed/breasted finch! Gotta love birds!