Visitors to the bird bath

 

It's fall now and the birds are flying south

Things began to change a few days ago. It wasn't one or two birds visiting the bird bath, it was ten or twelve birds, most of them robins. Up to this time the birds were always, shall we say, polite? Well-behaved, considerate, they queued up, sat in the bird bath, and left. A few days ago the "politeness" was gone, they were bossy, assertive, and pushy. I suspect they were preparing for the long flight south, a last visit to the bird bath and then off they went. We've had some heavy rain this week, Wednesday was the last full day of summer, it's gotten a lot cooler, and the bird bath now sits empty. 

"Within my Garden, rides a Bird" by Emily Dickinson

Within my Garden, rides
a Bird
Opon a single Wheel –
Whose spokes a dizzy music
make
As 'twere a travelling Mill –

He never stops, but slackens
Above the Ripest Rose –
Partakes without alighting
And praises as he goes,

Till every spice is tasted –
And then his +Fairy Gig
Reels in remoter atmospheres –
And I rejoin my Dog,

And He and I, perplex us
If positive, 'twere we –
Or bore the Garden in the Brain
This Curiosity –

But He, the best Logician,
Refers my clumsy eye –
To just vibrating Blossoms!
An exquisite Reply!

Birds preparing to fly south

"Robin Redbreast" by William Allingham (1824 - 1889)

Good-bye, good-bye to Summer! For Summer’s nearly done; The garden smiling faintly, Cool breezes in the sun; Our Thrushes now are silent, Our Swallows flown away, — But Robin’s here, in coat of brown, With ruddy breast-knot gay. Robin, Robin Redbreast, O Robin dear! Robin singing sweetly In the falling of the year. Bright yellow, red, and orange, The leaves come down in hosts; The trees are Indian Princes, But soon they’ll turn to Ghosts; The scanty pears and apples Hang russet on the bough, It’s Autumn, Autumn, Autumn late, ’Twill soon be Winter now. Robin, Robin Redbreast, O Robin dear! And welaway! my Robin, For pinching times are near. The fireside for the Cricket, The wheatstack for the Mouse, When trembling night-winds whistle And moan all round the house; The frosty ways like iron, The branches plumed with snow, — Alas! in Winter, dead and dark, Where can poor Robin go? Robin, Robin Redbreast, O Robin dear! And a crumb of bread for Robin, His little heart to cheer.

The cottage garden is all for peaceful co-existence

There is peaceful co-existence among most animals but when a human approaches they all run for their lives. One of my favourite poems is by Walt Whitman, in which he writes,

I think I could turn and live with animals, 

     they are so placid and self-contain'd, 

I stand and look at them long and long. 

They do not sweat and whine about their condition, 

They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, 

They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, 

Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented 

     with the mania of owning things, 

Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind 

     that lived thousands of years ago, 

 Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.

Sometimes animals fight each other, you see them butting heads in wildlife movies, but usually it isn't fighting to the death. A robin is sitting in the bird bath, he's not greedy, he doesn't mind if a sparrow joins him. There is room for all the birds but they might have to wait their turn, and they do; they know how to queue up. They aren't plotting against each other, they don't have concealed weapons, they aren't pedophiles or perverts.

How do you live with the animals in the limited way that city living affords? I suggest just sitting outside and being quiet, the birds will get used to your presence. They will pay you the highest compliment, they will ignore you.

Make your cottage garden as inviting to animals, birds, and insects as possible. Birds will use the bird bath and ignore you. Butterflies might land on your shoulder. The honey bees will continue to visit the flowers; bumble bees, that used to be so common but are now increasingly rare, will visit your garden and enjoy the bee balm. At night, in July, fire flies will make your garden a place of magic and wonder.