I’ve been inadvertently bird watching more lately. I moved my oak writing desk upstairs from the basement and situated it in front of a south-facing window in direct view of three suet feeders. (A note of hope to parents with small children and lots of toys: you do actually regain your home when they begin to move out.)
During writing breaks, I’ve captured photos of the crimson-velvet, red-headed woodpecker and a ginormous pileated woodpecker, in addition to four bluebirds that decided to overwinter in the surrounding area. A red-tailed hawk, coopers hawk and an occasional fly-by eagle have been hanging around the homestead.
Of course, if you talk to my competitive brother David and his ever-loyal four-year-old triplets, the seven deer (including twin fawns that are enjoying their first winter) that saunter almost daily through their front yard and pass by their cabin front windows nullify any wildlife that I’ve seen in my yard.
Even if I had the opportunity to take a selfie, hand-feeding a pterodactyl with a 30-foot wingspan, Emery, the male member of the triplet club, would retort something like: “Nope, Dad’s right, seven deer beat one big old flying reptile any day.”
Darn kids and their math skills these days.
I happened to be at their house last month when the two baby twin deer and pack of five does strolled a few feet from the front porch of their cabin. Emery informed me: “See that?”
“What?” I inquired, because we had been watching the deer for the past 20 minutes.
“His tail,” Emery directed. “When he tucks his white tail, that means he’s scared — shh, we have to be quiet.”
Reese and Faith whispered, “Sometimes we see three babies — they’re triplets just like us.”
I folded in that game, because everyone knows triplets seeing triplet fawns is like a royal flush.