Soon, he started putting out bread crumbs for the cardinal. Then, bird seed. Eventually, he lured the cardinal over to the patio. One day, he left the patio door open, and the cardinal walked right in.
For several years, the red cardinal was a daily visitor and source of entertainment to a man who lived alone and rarely left his house. I don’t know if it was the same bird, but dad insisted it was.
I’m old now, and I’ve hung bird feeders throughout my yard. I know each bird by sight, and when they return from the year before, I’m always shocked that they remembered, or are even still alive.
The birds, they crowd each other, often pecking seed off the ground in the midst of my flock of three chickens.
I have grown fond of their antics and know each on sight.
Last year, I watched a couple of doves raise two baby birds under the eaves of my front porch. They didn’t return this year.
As I enjoy their chatter and flight, I’m aware of how vulnerable they are. Cats often roam the edge of my fence. Yesterday, I found the remnants of one of the blue jay pair who recently made my sequoia tree their new home.
It’s nesting season now, and I think of Dad, the cardinal and all the birds looking for mates and raising their young.
Dad died four years ago. A red ceramic cardinal decorates his grave. We sold his house, but sometimes I wonder whether the new owners have any problems with a cardinal pecking at the bedroom window.
With a Perspective, I’m Yvonne Baginski.
Yvonne Baginski is a Napa-based writer and environmental activist.