This post is inspired by Ralph Fletcher’s book, A Writer’s Notebook: Unlocking the Writer Within You. Using the strategy of “writing small” I tried to capture a moment when I saw a visitor investigating the bird feeders on my front porch.
Here he comes again. The lilac tree begins to quiver, the rain from last night’s storm sprinkles his tiny body as he shimmies up the thin brown branch. He nibbles on the green smooth-edged leaves as he makes his journey to the top of the tree.
Just a few feet away lies his destination. The freshly stocked bird feeders. Suet, nyjer, millet and his favorite, the tiny safflower kernels. Breakfast awaits. Should it be a jump to the pole, a climb to the windowsill or scavenging the ground for the remains that have been left behind?
The stunning male cardinals, tiny black-capped chickadees, and upside down nuthatches have already made their morning run. What have they tossed aside? What have they left for him?
The decision has been made. Scurrying down the branches he heads for the cement porch chattering the entire way. “Cluck, cluck cluck,” sending out the call.
He spies a few shelled smooth peanuts. Bounding straight for them. He picks up the first one turning it round and round in his agile front paws then inserting it into his fuzzy left cheek, pushing it back until the bulge is visible. On to the next. Turn, turn, turn insert. Right side this time. Another and another and another.
Now it is time for a little cleanup. Gently licking his front paws one by one, rubbing his little pink nose, and whiskers twitching. Standing on hind legs he glances my way through the living room window. Perhaps a thank you for his morning meal.