"Christ, I'm getting all emotional from it, ya know." - Fat Bastard
Finchy, my frequent avian guest, is going behind bars.
Imagine my surprise when I looked out Saturday morning and could not find his feeder. Where it used to hang was an aluminum frame with one vertical bar running ceiling-to-floor from it, and a horizontal bar intersecting the other. The feeder had been placed on the deck in a spot I could not see from the window.
I'm sure my apartment management announced that they were screening in porches for all units, but I don't recall seeing the memo.
I will not have any "outside" access once the screen is installed, so I will not be able to hang a feeder anywhere. Nor will there be much space for a little bird to land and sing to me.
There will be a small ledge outside the screen, which I may be able to reach with a ladder to put some feed out (sans feeder), but apart from that I think my bird-feeding days are nearly over.
I think that without the ample landing space, Finchy may not return.
It was a great joy feeding Finchy and his still-unnamed lady friend, as well as the black birds (not blackbirds), mourning doves, cardinals (punk rockers of the skies, with their bright red mohawks), blue jays and squirrels who also located the free buffet.
It was Finchy who first sang on my deck daily while I sat just inside at my computer, even before I bought a feeder. His song became the soundtrack to my online job search. I won't miss the latter, but I won't forget the former.