We put up our feeder for the first time in July. Close to the feeder, outside the apartment, were a tree that resembles a paper birch and a couple of redwoods, in which hummingbirds and chickadees take refuge. By checking the area underneath the feeder for seed husks and bird droppings, we guessed that no bird spent any significant amount of time at the feeder for the first two days. This appears to be natural, as the birds need some time to discover a new food source in their territory. It was from the paper birch, that our feeder got its first visitors.
On the third morning, a chestnut-backed chickadee perched on the Y-shaped wire from which the feeder hangs. This is a tiny bird that looks like most chickadees except for a generous coat of chestnut brown on its back and shoulders. The bird perched down, picked up a seed and quickly shot back to the birch tree. It had a companion. No sooner had the first bird completed its errand, than the second bird came forth and did the same. This alternating feeding pattern appears to go on for some time, and one wonders whether it is just the natural gregariousness of chickadees, or a way to ensure that one bird always keeps watch while the other feeds. On occasion, there would be one chickadee performing acrobatics on the feeder wire, while the other quickly pecked at a seed or two, it was rare to see two or more chickadees feeding simultaneously. At any rate, chickadees are among the cleanest feeders (unlike finches), as they seem to eat very little and thus shed very tiny droppings. They make a pleasant to-do while feeding, enjoying their own acrobatics, and this appears to attract other songbirds to the feeder.
During the second week, one of the chickadees enlisted a new companion for his trips from the birch to the feeder and back – an Oregon Junco. The two birds repeated the alternate feeding ritual. From then on, juncos have been regular visitors to the feeder. We have developed a special fondness for juncos, as it was a junco that prompted us to install the feeder in the first place. They make a faint “chip, chip chip” sound as they hop about the gazebo, or on the tarp below. They’re bigger than the chickadees, more conservatively attired in black and reddish brown feathers, and not as flighty as the little busybodies. They’re also not as confrontational as jays and finches. In fact, when the feeder is occupied by chickadees or finches, the juncos seem to be perfectly content to hop about on the tarp below, picking up un-eaten seeds that have fallen down along with the husk.
The feeder’s most voracious and messy visitors – a group of house finches – discovered the feeder a few days after the chickadees. Most summer days, before driving to work, I would hear a couple of finches singing in the parking lot, and I hoped they would find the feeder soon. They generally come to the feeder in pairs, the male distinguished by his red head and chest feathers, and the female a drabber brown and beige. The first order of duty appears to be to shoo any and all smaller birds that may already be at the feeder. Then, they proceed to boss each other around, spending equal amounts of time devouring the seed and warning away other birds, including other finches. The males seem to be slightly more aggressive than the females, though this varies. One female in particular has a really weird pattern of eating. She enters the gazebo entirely — different from the others, who prefer to perch on the edge and peck at the seed that falls forth from a transparent plastic cylinder at its center — and spends a long time contemplatively chewing on the seed. I have often wondered whether this bird was ill, and unable to move, for she stayed in the feeder and remained so docile that even our non-confrontational juncos dared to approach the gazebo from the other side to sneak away a seed or two. The finches create quite a mess, both in terms of un-eaten seed that spills forth onto the tarp, and in the copious amounts of bird droppings. When I see the finches having their feeding frenzy, I feel grateful to the juncos that clean up below them on the tarp.
In the summer of 2014, the birds were quite voracious, and the cylinder of bird seed was emptied within a couple of weeks. We developed a routine of sorts; every couple of weeks, we replaced the birdseed and cleaned up the husks and droppings from the tarp below. This state of affairs, unfortunately, did not last very long, and the feeder had to be taken down and moved elsewhere, as it inconvenienced the neighbors in the apartment downstairs. This changed the patterns of avian activity at the feeder, and encouraged new species to pay us a visit, but that will have to wait for another post.