Cooperative Living June 2015 - 42

RURAL LIVING by Margo Oxendine, Contributing Columnist
head cocked at an odd angle, sucking
all the seed out of the feeders.
And every morning, I'd glance outside
and see a family of squirrels
hanging upside down, vacuuming
seed out of the feeders.
WRATH
OF THE
WRENS
T
he songbirds are back! Isn't it
wonderful? I don't know how
long songbirds live - certainly
not long enough - but I can
attest that those cute little wrens are
apparently quite long-lived. Or else,
they pass along all their knowledge
to their descendants.
Here's how I know: For the past
five years, at least, I have three little
wrens who have " adopted " me, I
like to think. I think that because,
if I don't, then I have to think
they've got it in for me, for some
unknown reason.
Perhaps the reason is this:
Birdseed is expensive. When my
budget took a hit about five years
back, I decided to delete birdseed
from my shopping list. What I was
really doing, I realized, was feeding
voracious squirrels and deer.
Every day, I'd fill the feeders with
birdseed. And every morning, every
seed would be gone, except for those
discarded on the ground. Sometimes,
even the ground was picked clean.
One night I looked out the kitchen
window, and saw a deer with his
40
The morning I looked outside
and saw a fat little chipmunk actually
sitting inside the feeder, with a
happy smile on his tiny face, was
the morning I decided, the heck
with birdseed.
I'm probably not supposed to do
this - there may be a law against it
for all I know - but if I have strawberry
hulls, I toss them outside near
the old bird feeder, rather than
throw them in the trash. The same
goes with those shreds of cereal that
always end up at the bottom of the
bag. Hey, I figure, it's grain; isn't that
something birds like?
No matter
what I toss outside
after fixing dinner
- bad blueberries,
strawberry hulls,
stale biscuits crumbled
into bits - it is
gone the next morning.
Apparently, my
backyard is some
sort of roadside feeding
station for creatures
large and small.
I guess that's my fault.
For this reason,
sheriff's office. Turns out, a doe was
giving birth under the tree outside my
bedroom window.
I can only hope this incident
occurred long enough ago that the
deputy is retired and becoming quite
forgetful by now. Who knows? It might
be part of deputy lore. Ergo, I do not
want to create another anecdote by
inviting marauding raccoons inside
the house.
Every now and then, I pass a dead
raccoon on the highway near my driveway.
I always feel a little sad, and wonder,
" Is that one of my raccoons? "
Anyway, back to the wrens. I can't
imagine how, but they have discovered
a way to get onto my screened porch.
Then, they dart and fly madly about,
hitting all the screens in a fervent effort
to get back outside.
Every morning,
I'd glance
outside and see
a family of
squirrels hanging
upside
Brownie does not
have a doggie door. I
can only imagine the
ensuing melee,
should that raccoon
family I know is out
there discover a welcoming entry
into the kitchen. I have no idea how
I'd shoo them out if they did invade.
I don't want to become the laughingstock
of the sheriff's office,
should I have to call for help late
some evening.
Actually, one night years ago, I
heard very disturbing sounds right
outside my bedroom window. It
woke me up. It was an odd, fearinducing
sound I'd never heard
before. That night, I did call the
down, vacuuming
seed out of
the feeders.
I go out and prop
open the porch door.
And then I wait. When
I don't notice them
flitting around anymore,
I close the door
again. That happened
yesterday.
This morning, I
heard the loud chirping
of songbirds. " My,
they're close, " I
thought.
And when I looked
out on the screened
porch, there they were:
Not just the one wren
who repeatedly comes
inside and then yearns
to get out; no. This
time, he'd brought a
buddy along.
There's another little wren - may
well be the same one - who spends
the night right outside my back door.
If I so much as venture to the garbage
can, he screeches loudly and divebombs
me. I am now wary of even
leaving the house by that door.
Ah, if I could only outsmart a songbird.
But apparently, I cannot even be
called " bird-brained. " Sigh. 
To order Margo Oxendine's A Party
of One, email recorder@htcnet.org, or call
540-468-2147 Monday-Thursday from 9-5.
Cooperative Living/June 2015
Cooperative Living June 2015

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