A few years ago, we were visiting friends in Britannia. It was after dinner. We were outside on the patio.
The rich smells of brandy and dark roasted coffee mingled with the fresh evening air of the Elbow River Valley. A female Wood Duck and her brood drifted by dabbling along the edge of the riverbank.
The scene was tranquil and relaxing. In the splendour of that moment, I was reminded of just how wonderful Calgary is -- thanks in great part to the vision of our forbearers and their commitment to our river valleys.
Within a minute or two, my ears followed my eyes down a path into the backyard naturescape. Soon I was oblivious to the sights and sounds of the human conversation occurring at our patio table. My attention drifted instead to a newly discovered bird feeder at the far end of the yard, dangling from a branch near a garden shed perched just above the flood line.
It was a tubular style silo feeder with eight ports and eight perches. From where I was sitting, it appeared to be filled with some kind of mixed birdseed. I could see millet, corn, sunflower and various other bits and pieces I could not identify.
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A female House Finch, mottled brown and massive-billed, perched calmly and fed purposefully from one of the ports. Pine Siskins, occupied three of the other ports. At intervals, Black-capped Chickadees and Red-breasted Nuthatches darted in to snatch single seeds from one of the empty ports before darting back into the dense green foliage to devour their tasty prizes.
Meanwhile, a pair of Chipping Sparrows, in bright red caps with bold black eye lines, and a single Clay-coloured Sparrow scurried about on the ground beneath the feeder. From time to time, one of them would wander over and peck at the ants emerging from beneath the garden shed.
Not twenty feet from the shed, stood a stone bird bath on a stone pedestal covered with rich moss. At that moment, more than a dozen House Sparrows were splashing and chattering in the midst of an exclusive little pool party.
It was late-June that evening, so the adult males were still in full breeding plumage. Their white wing bars blazed brilliantly in the shadows. Their black bibs were still crisp and black, not yet showing any signs of autumn wear.
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Suddenly, panic. An explosion of feathers and mist. Terrified sparrows lunged headlong into the nearest Cotoneaster as a dark form bore down on them from above. Then plop! A brightly breasted male Robin landed deftly on the edge of the birdbath -- head erect, bill held high, broken eye ring, looking every bit like an FDR charicature stepping out from the cover of the New Yorker.
He paused for a moment, chin up, rubbernecking the yard to make sure that every creature present had noted his impressive entrance. Then, gently, in stages, he slipped belly first into the deepest part of the bath to begin his hourly ritual.
© Brent Johner. Originally published in Calgary Gardening, June 2006. Reprint rights available. $9.95 CDN. Non-exclusive.
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