First World Problems

You might have noticed we are kind of bird lovers around here. We note, and share with each other, the arrival of migratory birds, pretty birds, and noteworthy or less common birds. I have been hearing the oriole around in the distance for maybe a week or so. Blue birds have been checking out nesting boxes.

I am sitting on the porch right now watching a chickadee snuffling his nose in azalea blossoms. I don't know if it is something he is eating, or if he just likes the smell. After each dip, he looks over at me and says "Chickadee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee!" I have never been quite sure if he was just being friendly or scolding me.

When I was young I was an avid hunter. Often times I would take pains to conceal my presence. I would enter the woods way before daylight, slip under some brush, and sit so still that a blinking eye would not give me away. Most of the wildlife would go about their daily business unaware of my presence. I was "one with the forest" in a zen manner of speaking. Squirrels would come down from their holes, slowly scratching and pausing to pee - so like people. Perhaps a turkey or a deer would pass nearby, foraging for their breakfast. Usually whatever I saw was not the quarry of the day, but the beauty was undeniable.

I once had a magnificent red fox (now something of a nemesis) stand not a dozen feet away and look in my direction for a good twenty minutes, unable to figure me out. The mystery was broken, however, when a happy song burst out directly above my head - "Chickadee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee!"

Slowly, that fox stepped backwards, his feet in the same prints he had used on the way forward, and he mysteriously faded into the brush. I was never quite sure if that chickadee was greeting me or if he was tattling on me. The effect was the same either way.

A few weeks ago I was elated to see the first robin hopping around my yard. That was followed by more robins and "spring was here at last." Usually, I can forgive the jaunty robins for eating my earthworms and nesting on my ladder in the shed. Just as they seem to forgive (?) Katie for climbing the ladder many times a day to feed my earthworms to their babies. But this year we seem to have received the rotten reprobates of the robin world (alliteration intended).

For some strange reason at least one (though I cannot be certain of the number) of these robins has chosen the roof and mirrors of both my truck and Kelly's car as a special roosting and defecation spot.

Now before you think I am just being picky, a sort of Felix Unger of the yard, I would like you to understand. I farm. My world is filled with manure of all types. I have plans and systems for how to use various types of manure for different plants and purposes. Manure is kind of my greatest resource, "farmer's gold," if you will.

My world is revolves around manure. I watch the animals and judge their nutrition and health by their manure. Growing up, the smell of fresh cow manure on a field was on the same plane as flowers for olfactory enjoyment.

But this is different. I would not care if it was just once in a while, or just a little bit. I seldom wash my truck and really don't get around to washing the wife's car nearly as often as a good husband should. Automotive hygiene is just not my thing.

But the sheer volume of this robin excretion is astounding. It has become a full time job for them. I have seen one particular robin, a-bob-bob-bobbin' along out across the pasture when a sudden thought occurs to him. He interrupts his regularly scheduled program to fly in, pause on the mirror and relieve himself of his earthly burdens. Or something like that.

Sometimes I think this being a good steward of God's land thing is getting out of hand.

Thanks for Listening,

Dave