Seed Not Included
Feeling hugely benevolent, I bought a sack of bird seed that was on sale. Mix with hot water, let sit until mushy, then add a little brown sugar, it’s a breakfast of champions. Twenty bucks will keep a person in breakfasts for well over a month. And it’s good for you.
Seriously, seeing wee dickie birds coming by the window brings a little cheer to anyone. “Look at the pecker on that one!” There is a decrepit old feeder which I cleaned up a bit and now that birds are coming to my window, they will get a brand new shiney restaurant. Joy to the world! The on-line comfirmation of the order clearly stated “Seed not included.”
Really? Would some folks expect it. “Product not as illustrated.” Perhaps someone would impose a trade tariff or would it be a contravention of some obscure agricultural edict? Then there’s the “Free Willy” bunch who would advocate that feeding wild birds ain’t natural. There is nothing you can do without pissing someone off, especially the self-appointed experts. There is no bottom to politics and in the weeks ahead we will see some new lows. “Seed not included,” perhaps that’d make an interesting bumper sticker.
And so it became Christmas Day. The temperature is just a few degrees above freezing. Rain bucketed down. When I was a scuba diver there was a joke about the rain being too heavy to go diving. It is one of those days. Huge gusts of wind randomly blast the deluge almost horizontally for a few moments. The wet splatters on the windows. Oh lord! I’m so glad it is not snow. Homeless folk huddled in doorways and under bushes and I remember a time when that was me. This wet winter weather is as deadly as the minus forty degree days and nights I knew. It holds a mortal threat which is slower and more painful. Everyone is hunkered down as these winter systems march in off the North Pacific; the next week’s forecast is grim. I sit at my desk and watch as herds of white ponies gallop and turn on the black water of the harbour. Some crash on the reef across the bay. The dogs sleep.
The shiny new bird feeder has arrived. It is an instant hit. Tiny birds fly through the rain. If I scaled it up, and it were one of us swooping around out there, each raindrop would be a bucket of ice-cold water. How do those fragile wee creatures survive? The miracles we look at and just don’t see!
I am malingering. This blog is now looking into the mouth of the New Year. The weather is dull, dull, dull and so am I. I have hardly been out and about and there is not enough light to photograph much of anything. I went to the local liquor emporium and bought myself an expensive treat; the birds can’t have all the joys. I once was given a bottle of Irish whiskey called “Teacher’s Tears.” It was nectar. So I went looking. I ended up buying the least expensive bottle of “Writer’s Tears.” It surewasn’t cheap, but worth every drop. The problem is that it is 40% alcohol and is certainly a jug of whammy. Sleep comes easily after a few sips of this brew. Bloody lovely so!
And so the New Year begins. No resolutions. Buckle in, I think it’s going to be a wild ride.
“Don’t live the same year 75 times and call it a life .” – Robin Sharma
Bob looks like a porcupine. And you look very satisfied in your office – good on ya and Happy New Year
Best to you Tony.
We’ll have to meet up while we still recognize each other. We are goingm to look quite different without teeth!