House Finches

If you put an old mattress, bookshelf, or pretty much anything you don't want anymore out on the curb in front of my house with a "FREE" sign, chances are pretty good it will be gone, if not before you get back inside, then certainly before you go back out again. It's like people in trucks are constantly cruising, watching, waiting to strike.

That's also how it is for the House Finches and sparrows that visit my bird feeder.  I fill it up and turn around to go back inside, and before the door closes, there they are.  And before I get the seed put away, it's time to refill the feeder.  Where are they?  I am not religious about keeping the feeder full.  It will sit empty for days or weeks. You'd think they'd move on. Lose interest. "That yard? Yeah, they used to put out seed, but it's been deserted for ages now. Let's try somewhere else."  But, no.  They're waiting. Watching.  Theirs is a faith few people know.  The Pope doesn't believe Jesus is coming back like these finches believe that feeder will be refilled.

Two years ago a pair of House Finches made a nest under the eaves in the corner by our living room window. We watched them build the nest together, saw when eggs were in the nest, watched the parents take turns feeding the babies. We even watched the babies learn to fly away. Every time you'd open the door to go out onto the patio, the mother would fly off. It got so we didn't want to go outside and bug her. Even if it did leave us with a bird-shit stained spot on the wall where the nest used to be, it was pretty cool. 

House Finches on the bird feeder in my front yard around March 21st, taken with the Canon PowerShot on a little tripod from inside my front room with the window open.  Identified in the National Geographic guide a few years ago.