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| As soon as I fill the feeders, they flock in. The pine grosbeaks... |
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| ...the white-breasted nuthatch ... |
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| ...and blue-eyed Lacy, who thinks she might catch one of the dozen chickadees that practically land on my hand. It's thrilling when they're so close. When I don't get out there and refill the feeders early enough in the day, they fly right up to the windows to remind me: get my butt in gear. Cheeky buggers. |
There is also one lone Harris's sparrow, which must have lost its own flock, poor little jigger. There are six magpies but they don't come close till I leave; Scott asked the other day if I mind if he shoots them. Yes I mind! I hope he won't do it. He's all talk no action anyway, when it comes to that. I'm glad.
Lacy there would like to be a house cat again. I brought her back with me from Shelly's this summer, but she has never warmed to the cats that were already here, or they to her. Any takers out there? She's a lovely, affectionate one-year-old female. If she survives till spring (she has the entire barn to herself, and it's full of straw or hay so there are plenty of warm places; it's not the cold that kills our cats, it's the foxes and coyotes), she should have some nice kittens. Hope she doesn't eat them this time. Blechh.
