Bird Wars

A shotgun blast of 40-50 Pine Siskins shot past my deck this morning, probably just as irritated as me by the sudden onslaught of sleet from a leaden gray sky.

Yesterday, the local mob of Siskins had arrived, followed shortly by yet another mob, until there were so many swirling, chattering and bickering birds darting from birch tree to birch tree, I thought sure war would break out any moment.

Why these tiny sparrows invariably travel in such numbers is beyond me, since upon arrival, they immediately go to raucously arguing over every seed and spruce cone on the freshly uncovered ground.

It’s like a feathery swarm of bees up in the trees, bringing the still bare limbs alive with constant movement and sound. Small war parties would part from the mob, arrowing to the ground, only to take up the noisy argument amongst the damp, dead leaves. Back and forth, back and forth, for about fifteen minutes.

Then, as if on cue, the entire mob of birds would lift into the air, circle and rocket off to some new destination, known only to them.

Silence falls, broken occasionally by the appreciative chirp of a chickadee as it returns gratefully to its usually peaceful perch by the bird feeder.

I didn’t see hide nor feather of them the rest of the day, leaving the trees and bird feeder to our quieter and more polite nuthatches and chickadees. We even had a solitary woodpecker drop by for a suet snack.

This morning, just as the weather turned for the worse, the war reconvened with that shotgun blast. Pine Siskins everywhere.

I’m betting they were nesting in the dense patch of birch trees across the driveway and the sudden, sullen downpour of sleet (it really did seem to just start up without warning) had the birds taking flight from the bare, unprotected branches. Most likely heading for better cover in the copse of spruce trees beyond our yard. Smart birds.

Oh great. Now it’s snowing.