So my clever little niece read about this fun idea to make those naughty birdies mind their own birdie business. Apparently, you drop a few rocks around the berry patch–rocks that look an awful lot like the real things, especially to a bird. As the story goes, the birds peck at the rocks and get all confused and frustrated with the counterfeits—here’s the good part—
by the time the real berries ripen up, the birds don’t trust them…
so they fly away and eat some other lady’s strawberries.
She made a bus load of these pretty little fake berries so we can give it a try.
All I have to say about that is…
I can hardly wait to see how they work. We may just have some Strawberry Shortcake this year after all.
Note: If you’d like to have some of Tracy’s Strawberry Rocks for your garden–she’s selling them for $8 a bag–each bag has 5 or 6 hand painted berries inside. All proceeds go toward her literacy service trip to Kenya. Paypal her at Bubblegumgirl@gmail.com
Now, I know that you have seen more beautiful bird pictures in your life–and I’ve certainly posted better ones myself, a million times. But there’s something very special about these ones, so lame or not, I’m sharing them with you.
You see, for several months now, I’ve completely neglected the bird feeders and left those lovely birdies that we love so much, to find food…elsewhere. Sounds heartless, I know, but I had a good reason, or at least it feels like one to me.
Not too long after I posted this, a sad, terrible thing happened. One afternoon, Lyndi sat watching a pretty little finch nibbling away at the seeds in the feeder–happy as a clam. When from out of nowhere, the ugly, rotten, loser, orange cat from across the fence sprang up onto the deck, and in one fluid motion, grabbed the bird and dove back down. Just like that. No warning whatsoever.
Maybe, if your not an avid bird watcher, you’ll think this is silly, but honestly, it broke my heart. It was so awful to think that now the birds wouldn’t be able to trust our yard and wouldn’t come around anymore because, it wasn’t safe. After all our work to lure them here just so we could watch them. I have two cats of my own, for Pete’s sake, but they would never do such a thing. And now, we would be known in the feathered kingdom as the “bird slayers.”
It’s been months now since we’ve seen any of our sweet little friends, so when I looked out the window this morning and saw this brave little orange finch, I snapped pictures as quickly as I could. She just sat there…waiting. It was like she was asking us if, after all this time, it’s safe to come back now.
Trouble is, I have no idea. And I don’t really want to put more seeds out with the “cat from the dark realm” still lurking about. So, I still need to figure out a safe way to feed them, and enjoy them, that doesn’t make them…bait.
Do you have any ideas?
Because, really, really…I think they miss us too.
right this minute…
A two year old who loves her kitty more than she fears getting an occasional reminder that sometimes pets wear an invisible “do not disturb” sign around their necks.
The ridiculous Blue Jay that keeps coming back–terrorizing all the smaller birds–but lovely to watch anyway in all his enormous splendor. Seriously, this guy is a big as a chicken. He can’t even sit on the bird feeder because he’s too huge. Silly thing.
This gentle little lady who sits patiently till the blue guy leaves and then waits until all the little birds come back–before hopping down to join them. So sweet.
Yesterday’s pretty clouds that rained just enough to give us…
this beautiful rainbow. Do you suppose a pot of gold could be inside that building on the mountain? It sure looks like it to me. :}
That I was smart enough to take a picture of last season’s football donuts from Krispy Kreme, that the new guy behind the counter said he’d never heard of. Hmph.
Dude. Don’t mess with my football donuts!
That we have one of the biggest games of the year on Saturday–a sort of “Holy War,” if you will.
There will be NO wearing of red in this house I tell you.
Nachos at our place.
Chompy is learning to stay very still and just wait for those little birdies to come. That’s the big girl in her–and she does it well.
Now, if we could just get the two year old in her not to wait till they flock and then smack the window and shout, “BOO!” we’d be good.
One step at a time…