Do you enjoy watching colorful cardinals dance and squabble around your bird feeder? I know I do! And seeing a daddy cardinal feed it's huge demanding baby seed after seed is a real treat.
Eastern bluebirds come through our pasture in late January each year telling me that winter won't last. Once I watched for an hour as a family of five newly fledged bluebirds sat on our power line taking flying lessons from a frantic parent. I love living in the country!
Once when I was a young child my father and I spent an hour watching a great horned owl surveying our yard from a low branch and calling his distinctive whooo-whooo-whowho- who. My snowy white owl adds a touch of magic.
Loons don't visit our mountain with their haunting call, but the evening trill of a screech owl is almost as eerie.
Late one summer, I was privileged to spend seven weeks in the company of a young hummingbird who had been shoved from the nest because his parents knew he would never fly. I named him Baby and carried him from flower to flower to add nectar to his diet, bathed him when his darting thread-like tongue could not do the job, left him to wander my studio at will (he never learned to fly but liked to perch on one of my giraffes so he could watch my every move), woke to his insistent hunger cries each morning, and watched as, feather by feather, his throat developed the male's ruby color. When October's chill became too much for his constitution, we found him a home with a breeder. Sadly, he only lived a few more weeks. But Baby, the tiny hummingbird with a huge personality, has a permanent home in my heart. My hummingbird is about the size Baby was when he lived with my family.
The hummingbirds outside my studio inspire and delight me!