Throughout the cold winter months the Mr. has diligently taken care of the wild birds needs.
Faithfully nurturing their tiny bodies with his special mixture of suet concoctions, fruits, and seeds everyday.
In return we are rewarded with endless hours of entertainment, and their colorful and ever-present choruses of song.
The nesting season is now upon us, our feathered friends busily fluffing their nests in anticipation of a new generation of songsters.
Bird houses have been repaired, and newly crafted, and bird baths freshly painted.
The circle continues.
“Sometimes goldfinches one by one will drop
From low hung branches; little space they stop;
But sip, and twitter, and their feathers sleek;
Then off at once, as in a wanton freak:
Or perhaps, to show their black, and golden wings,
Pausing upon their yellow flutterings.
Were I in such a place, I sure should pray
That nought less sweet, might call my thoughts away.”
John Keats
