It has been a mild winter along our stretch of the 42nd parallel, but Old Man Winter delivered enough cold days for me to offer sunflower, thistle and suet to the local descendants of the dinosaurs.
At first, things went well. Establishment birds – cardinals, chickadees and a woodpecker – declared they were in. Titmice and starlings soon joined. There was a junco, a spattering of sparrows, and a cedar waxwing.
For a time, there was pleasant conversation at the feeders.
Then along came a squawking jay from New York City and a raucous crow from Arkansas, turning the rest of the flock into angry birds, whose chattering seems now to have been for naught. For last Tuesday, those birds of a feather known as American voters flocked to polls and all but anointed the jay and the crow as finalists for November’s big birdbath showdown.
Sure, eagles might still arrive just in time to save the day, much as they rescued Frodo and Sam from doom in “The Return of the King.”
I myself keep squinting at the TV, expecting to read “The characters appearing in this movie are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental.”
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