I remembered I'd written this poem a while ago after having a conversation about birds and watching them with bmac62, so this one's for you Bill! Breakfast is Served I was curious, I just wanted to know what sort of bird it was… So, I bought this little book. Not a big field guide, just a sort of general information kinda book. In the very first paragraph it labeled me! Said I was now a “birdwatcher”. It said, once you step over that line from simple enjoyment, to curiosity appeasement, your status changes. But now, somehow, I feel caged. I feel trapped. I just wanted to know what sort of bird it was. It all started with breakfast, sitting there in the morning, sipping my tea, after filling the various feeders, the two chipped china saucers that found their way out onto the deck railing, filled with sunflower seed, and song mix so there was no waiting at the hanging feeder. That horned ceramic wall hanging thingy that I never quite knew what to do with before, now screwed to a post, allowing the birds to perch on the horns while they nibble the thistle that rest in the hollow behind the face. We sat there, the birds and I, munching our breakfasts, when this little blue-ish grey fellow flew up and snagged a black hulled sunflower seed. I’d never seen him before, and I wondered, what sort of bird it was… I didn’t think that “little brown jobber” was really a name, but it worked, mostly except for the brightly coloured ones. Now I have to admit, at first, I was thrilled that I now knew the big blue fellow, the one with that intimidating beak, and that black stripe by his eye that gave him a regal, yet evil, look was a Bluejay. And that the bright red, orange beaked guy, with his pretty red/brown tinged wife are cardinals, not to be confused with the fox sparrows who also sport a good amount of red. My, there are a lot of sparrows, house sparrows and song sparrows white throated sparrows, and on and on, so many it’s hard to keep them all straight. Chickadees are small like the sparrows, and there’s this bird by name of ‘titmouse” The name was in the book, but I’ve not seen one, at least I don’t think I’ve seen one. You’d think it would be rodent grey, with nipples. Red bellied woodpeckers! There was this bird, with a red patch on his head, pecking at the suet block, I’m pretty sure he was a woodpecker, but his belly was pretty darn white looking to me. See, that’s where the trapping comes in. Before, I could just sit and enjoy. But once having put a name to a bird, you’re always wondering, is that the bird I read about? Should I get the book and look again? Yesterday, I gave the book away. It was after I saw that woodpeckery bird pick up a hazelnut I’d left out for the squirrels. Squirrels are easy, big black eyes, bushy tail chittery noise, scampering, you always know a squirrel is a squirrel! You see, I’d never read in the book, that woodpeckers will pick up a whole hazelnut in its shell, and fly away with it, so maybe it wasn’t a woodpecker. Maybe it was a nutcracker. Or maybe it was a rebel woodpecker, breaking out of the mold and being his own bird! You know I’m much happier now, not knowing, we’re back to morning munching, the birds and I. Peace of mind, and breakfast, is served. YZ