My Feathered Friends

I've never liked birds (unless they are of the variety that can talk or do tricks). Without fail, I'm the one who will get pooped on in a crowd of people. I'm the one who will spend extra time fixing my hair only to have a bird relieve itself as soon as I step out the door. Basically, I don't like birds because they have chronic diarrhea and hollow bones, which are two telltale signs of things that can't be trusted.

But, after visiting a couple of friends here in LA and seeing their little birdfeeder being frequented by gracious, cute little finches, I developed an unusual soft spot for birds. Since my backyard is in a constant state of construction and we've therefore got a depressing view outside our kitchen window, I decided I'd try to bring the birds in to liven the place up. I bought my birdfeeder, filled it up and waited the whole weekend. No one showed up.

Feeling my optimism waning and my dislike for birds returning, I walked into the kitchen Monday morning to a breakfast party of about six finches. They were vying for space on the feeder and lining up on the plants I put around it to make it feel more natural... as natural as a hanging trough next to a house wall can feel. It was pretty awesome.
They eat about a feeder of food every two days, and when I don't refill it, they ignore me for a day or two, but I've definitely made some feathered friends. My favorite is one we call "Mutant Eye," a little tan finch with a huge bulge on his left eye. I can't tell if he has an eye because he moves so quick, but his defect has certainly made him endearing. We've also got red heads and orange heads and spotty ones. There have also been a couple of doves strutting around and a hummingbird that zips by these orange flowers in the back yard. It's no nature sanctuary by any means, but it's better than dirt mounds and rebar wires.