"I can't afford new tires! I've got to feed the birds!"
That's one of the first mantras we heard upon our arrival here. I go through my memories, straining to find the evidence one way or the other, as to whether the inhabitants of other rural and wild, in-between places put as much loving care into attracting the aviaries. Perhaps it is just a mountain thing.
The juncos, white-crown sparrows, and finches let us know it's spring, regardless of whether or not there's snow on the ground. Actually, snow seems to bring out more of them. Funny. The stellar jays, like the ravens and magpies, are year-round residents. They come to the feeders looking for handouts, which a part of the primate population indulges, going through bags upon bags of seeds.
These feathered omens let us know it will not be long before the hummingbird feeders need to come out, and those trills will echo through the valley. The cats too take note of sudden abundance of prospective food on the wing. Sabina dislikes this circumstance-such a girl thing-but I just shrug. After all, it is all part of the cycle. Like it or don't, birth, death, predator, prey; the food chain is amongst the oldest of orders, and, sometimes we get lucky enough to have a ringside seat.