“I’m a tweet wittle bird in a dilded tage | Tweetie’d my name but I don’t know my age | I don’t have to worry and dat id dat | I tafe in here from dat old Puddytat.” ~ Tweety Bird
(Opening photo credit: Wikipedia)
When we spotted our first Wilson’s Warbler in the window sill a few years back, we were certain someone’s pet canary had escaped the swing of his cage and was looking for a way back to
Dwanny’s Granny’s. Such a beautiful, vibrant little bird to be visiting our drab winter yard!
Sadly, he graced us for only a day or two and he was gone, most likely migrating onto greater, prettier places.
Like a good little party-crasher, he arrived again Thanksgiving of the next year, then split again. But around Christmas, he came back…and stayed. For weeks without fail he would come around breakfast donning his little black beret, and leaving us to wonder how much longer we will get to enjoy him.
One thing for sure is that he does love our garden space. From the comfort of the warm van we watch for him, pulling slowly into the driveway from a morning of errand-running. He is quickly spotted, the only brightly-colored anything in an otherwise an colorless garden space. He flits up and down, gleaning insects from the blueberry bushes and the adjacent brush pile.
As I pull to a stop, the kids clamber to one side of the car elbowing each other to get best view of him. If only he knew the commotion he caused! All the silly little Puddytats plotting and scheming with their field lenses for a rare close-up as his airborne acrobatics amuse and entertain.
Slow down and appreciate nature seems to be his advice. Everyone should be so lucky to have one of these guys in their yard.
I call him “Wilson,” but the kids aptly named him Tweety. The black cat that used to frequent our yard was, of course, Sylvester, though we’ve not seen the likes of him for a while now. How lucky for Tweety.
As we eat our breakfast before school each day, he shows up — right on schedule — and we all sing the song because it’s quite hard not to.
Problems with an old camera whose smaller aperture and slower shutter won’t flex for low light conditions paired with a flitty subject, it is always difficult to get a still shot of him.
I know that last month’s bird was also taking a bath, so my little bird voyeur habit is now firmly out of the closet. As for the background kitchen noise, the kids always have chores to do; life goes on, even when someone else is trying to get a relaxing bath.