Long day, and I just need to get some thoughts out. Expect a scattered post with random ramblings.
Put myself through the ringer a bit today, I suppose. I washed clothes, and for those who know the process, I did it by hand. No washing machine. Just a five-gallon bucket and some elbow grease. I have some detergent too, it’s this eco stuff. Not sure how eco-friendly it actually is, but it seems to work okay.
Then I was off to the bigger garden plot to till up my final two rows, again by hand, with the aid of a steel rake.
All the while, my little tenant was flitting about, scrounging for bugs, and probably getting a bit annoyed at me for running in and out of the house constantly. He lives on the porch, you see, about five feet from my front door. At night he nestles down and doesn’t seem bothered by my presence, as long as I talk to him and move slowly enough not to spook the poor guy. During the day, he’ll light off and forage a few bugs when I’m roaming about.
That’s not to say he’s intimidated. Far from. I’ve sat out during the day while he tests my response to close flutters. I thought for sure he was about to land on my shoulder at the closest. I try to stay still at times like that, letting him do as he wishes. Earning the trust of a bird is no small task, especially when he doesn’t seem to care for sunflower seeds or bread crumbs.
You might find it odd, but I can pick him out in an instant, even from members of the same species. He’s a little hunter, and his daring flight patters are pretty unique. He has all the skill of a helicopter combat pilot, and he does these drops from altitude to snatch a bug and then perch on a tiny branch while eating it.
While relaxing, I’ll watch as he combs his feathers and sorts out the downy fibers on his breast. He doesn’t often stray far from the house, so all I need to do is park myself on the cooler and watch hit acrobatic flights.
I try my best to give the little guy some space, as approaching them can spook them. I don’t think he would call me a friend at this point, but he has definitely acclimated to living beside a human. He’ll perch within six or eight feet of me sometimes, just watching. He watches my kitchen work through the front window. And after several weeks, he hasn’t flown the coop. That alone, to me, means that he has some trust that I won’t eat him.
It’s funny. There’s no taming a wild thing like Chick Pea. He’s his own bird. But just the act of sticking around instead of building another nest means something. I have one critter around that I can talk to, and I think he prefers when I’m talking, if for no other reason than to keep tabs on how close I’m getting.
He’s just a wild bird, and I suppose I’m something of a feral human, and we’re both out here just trying to survive. I don’t think he’d admit it, but having a 200lb monster living right next door must carry a few perks against the natural predators in the area. Perhaps that’s why he keeps my company.
I’ll probably never know. I’ll probably never convince him to pick sunflower seeds from my hand. He’ll fly away someday (his girlfriend sings in the morning from different roosting areas). But for the moment, we’ve been tossed into the mix together, and both he and I respect a certain amount of distance, and we’re tolerant of each other.
I keep the bigger beasts away, and he removes the smaller pests from my porch. It’s a pretty good arrangement, I think. Both of us simply doing what we do while inadvertently helping each other.