Neighborhood Notes: Thoughts about the bird feeder

By PAUL WIEMAN

I have started to think of my backyard bird feeder as one of the great zones of acceptance we strive for. 

It is not subject to the divisiveness of the rest of the world around me, and it lives in a balance that is a model for all of us.

I have a standard tube feeder with four perches, and below this feeder I have attached a screen that catches seed that slips through as birds feed themselves. In addition, during the cooler seasons, I have two suet feeders hanging nearby, offering a different source of energy and food favored by a variety of birds. And then, of course, there are the birds that are the ground feeders, searching for the seeds that skip past the circular screen seed catcher.

So, I have provided for multiple species of birds who feed differently, and I have managed to keep enough food around for scores of birds to feed themselves throughout the day. 

Chickadees swoop in from a nearby pine tree, daintily pick a sunflower seed, and return to a branch to work at their meal. So polite. Titmice stop by regularly and stay on the perch of the tube, eating at will and dropping seeds like sloppy teenagers. Downy woodpeckers waver between the tube and the suet, spending equal time at each, looking like classy waiters with their sleek build, flashy red patch, and striped suits. Finches and wrens, aware of their own cuteness, join the cluster on the tube, and juncos and mourning doves search the ground below. In an unanticipated treat for us, cardinals and blue jays frequent the circular catch screen, preening as if parading on a red carpet.

Squirrels stop by, and this disrupts the underlying peace, but not completely. The ground feeders pay attention, but don’t disappear, as if an ambulance has driven by. Make room, but get back to what you were doing. I have had to move the tube feeder a few times to find a spot that the squirrels could not get to, but some have been able to leap from a tree trunk to one of the suet feeders, and we have let that stand. They deserve it! The squirrel makes this fantastic leap, flies four feet through the air, and clings on to the suet feeder, now swaying dramatically. In a move any observer would admire, the squirrel then embraces the entire suet feeder and snacks at will. 

At any given time, seven or eight species of birds are sharing the food sources available, along with a squirrel or two. They wait their turn, they find their niche, and they display a model of cooperation that we should all pay attention to. Somehow, even though they are different from each other, they all get along, or at least seem to understand that this is their watering hole and all are welcome. Simply put, it’s a bountiful place, and no one needs to dominate. There is enough to go around, and everyone seems to appreciate it.

Together, they remind us how to live in a complicated, albeit well-stocked world.

And then, out of nowhere, in swoop three or four grackles, cackling loudly and aggressively taking over. All other birds leave the area immediately. The tube is temporarily abandoned, the suet feeders swing empty. The chickadees peek out from covered pine limbs, but all other birds are nowhere to be found. The grackles attack the feeder.

Grackles are flying oil spills. Depending on the lighting and the angle, they are shiny and purple, or blue, or black … always slick, always arriving as a menacing gang, intimidating all within their reach. A few minutes later, with the grackle still dominating the feeder and the suet, a half dozen red-wing blackbirds appeared and started patrolling the ground and the circular screen. They are there because the grackles allow them their space. A courageous chickadee (it’s always the chickadees) tries to land on a perch of the tube, and the grackle, at four times its size, pecks it off and forces it back to its hiding spot. And just like that, in a manner of seconds, weeks of harmony are destroyed. 

Or maybe a new balance is emerging, but one of exclusion and dominance, not cooperation and sharing.

I have nothing against feeding the grackle and the red-winged blackbirds, but I could not help noticing how different their approach was … all for me and almost nothing for you, with the grackle taking the best seats at the table and leaving the droppings for the red-wing blackbirds to find. And down on the ground, pecking away, these second-class backyard citizens were supposed to feel happy about their status. No one else was allowed to participate.

And then, after 30 minutes or so, the grackles moved on, followed by the red- wing blackbirds, and harmony and order were restored. 

Let’s hope this is how it ends up for us all.

Paul Wieman is a retired educator. His “Neighborhood Notes” column will offer occasional observations about the Katonah neighborhood he has lived in for 35 years.