The outdoor life indoors
So, bronchitis. Sub-zero temperatures. I am caged. I look out the window upon short gray days. A friend just texted me to ask if I’d succumbed to cabin fever. Is it crazy to make a bird blind on your sofa? Because I’m spending this month coughing in my bird blind on the sofa. My nephew’s camouflage blanket has been pressed into active duty. I venture out into the frozen air only to fill my bird feeders. The birds are very demanding. The little ones, the house finches, all they do is fight. The juncos aren’t much better and they stay at the trough forever. The cardinal couple, they fly in fashionably late and everyone scatters. They made such a mess of my deck picking through my inferior buffet for morsels they deemed worthy that I had to order in special sunflower seeds just for them. So demanding. It would all be too much if it wasn’t for my friend the catbird. He drops by a few times a day, thankfully. He’s impeccably plumed, unafraid, a good listener. Stays around even when I inch toward the window a bit closer than usual. He knows me, you know? I call this photograph Comfortably Snug. What? You ask if I have cabin fever? Of course not. I’m in my bird blind on the sofa.
Copyright RC 2018