Posted on July 20, 2002 in Neighborhood
I put sunflower seed into the plastic feeder that Lynn’s sister Jessie sent us for Christmas and more in the tube feeder which I have hanging off the purple plum tree. As soon as I appear on the deck with the bag, a house finch sentry hiding somewhere under the tiled roof of Tim’s condo sings out. A mourning dove hears the call and tolls its happiest dirge. The cry moves down the street. It’s the Six O’Clock Report. The birds know nothing of the stock market crash or Ashcroft’s evil plan to set neighbor against neighbor. I know nothing of avian politics, but they all know that there is black oil sunflower seed to be had on the deck with the cacti, the impatiens, and the dwarf date palm.