FEEDING FRENZY
Stepping through the patio doors into the snowy backyard, she was instantly greeted by a choir of singing songbirds. There were a dozen different kinds, at least, and as the initial cacophony slowly subsided, the music became ethereal.
Chickadees trilled, robins peeped, crows squawked and somewhere out in that sea of flittering commotion, a loon’s mournful cry echoed through the afternoon. It was oddly out of place, especially given the blanket of snow that still covered the ground.
She could see the remnants of a picked over Christmas garland up in the evergreens, a few shriveled cranberries and popcorn husks all that remained of the festive snack. The large plastic birdfeeder in the middle of the lawn was a popular gathering place and she watched as the tiny winged birds slowly swept down from the trees to the feeder, then back up to the obscuring limbs above.
She took a tentative step forward and the birds scattered to a safer distance. Their songs continued, a undulating wave of parallel noise that somehow mingled into a beautiful arpeggio.
She carefully walked up the snowy stairs towards the upper level of the yard where she peered back down towards the feeder from her bird’s eye view. The snow was littered in tracks, the dozens of birds as well as squirrels, raccoon, and even deer. It was strange to realize that one simple pylon of feeds could provide such a substantial draw. The food supply must be close to its end, a further blessing of the coming spring.
There was something magic in the chaos, a kindred sense of shared resources that was often overlooked in the human world.
In the backyard where the feeding frenzy occurred, there was a better world. One filled with music and peace. She could stay there forever, in the moist cold of the afternoon.
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