I thought I was seeing things the other day. Dark, little flashes from outside the window caught my eye. I finally decided I needed to investigate. Were these flashes my imagination or did I need to make an emergency visit to my ophthalmologist?
It turns out I didn’t need an ophthalmologist but an ornithologist. I discovered two birds responsible for creating the commotion.
The male and female were flitting about, resting occasionally atop the capitals of the porch columns. I observed their peculiar behavior for some time, and determined the couple was picking a perfect spot for a nest. A quick search online — “What NC birds have red breasts?” — confirmed the creatures were House Finches, the male being the flashier of the two. We can expect two to six baby finches in a couple of weeks. Welcome, spring.
I’ve had a number of encounters with birds this year. Twice in the past six months, birds have flown into our house here in Seven Lakes. One made it all the way upstairs. where it concealed itself in an artificial Christmas tree. The dog went wild.
Both times, there was a lot of flapping (the birds and us) and yelling (just us) before the birds were returned to the great outdoors. And last October a bird flew into my mother’s house while I was visiting. That bird found a home on the ceiling fan in the pine-paneled den.
As we debated ways to return it outside, my mother innocently suggested turning on the fan. I froze in shock at the thought of the bird being slung across the room. There was a pause. “No, Mom,” I said dryly, “I don’t think that is the solution.” After a good laugh, we eventually urged our new feathered friend out the front door by turning off lights and closing interior doors to give it an escape route.
All of these avian encounters have me wondering if the birds are living in my world or if I’m living in the birds’ world. I think I know the answer.
Soon I will clean out the feeders and fill them with sunflower seeds and suet. Hummingbirds will hover and sip the sugar water I mix for them. And in turn, they will invite me to notice — out of the corner of my eye — as they build and feed and hatch and soar.
