Feeding Birds
Two American Crows arrived at my feeder yesterday morning. They looked enormous, black against the white snow, towering over the Dark-eyed Juncos that vied with them for the sunflower seeds that had splashed to the ground. The one let out a few caws and soon both flew off.
The birds at my feeder this cold winter season have been fairly consistent: House Finch, the males turning more red through the winter; Goldfinch in their little yellow tuxedos; Black-capped Chickadee, ready to perch on my head while I refill the feeder; White-breasted Nuthatch peering head-down from a neighboring tree; Tufted Titmouse, their wide eyes in a constant stat of alarm; White-throated Sparrows showing off their striped helmets; from time to time a splash of red that is the Cardinal; and a few Mourning Doves, like loaves of bread on a limb, waiting their turn to forage on the ground. I spend a lot of time with my binoculars watching them come and go. They become, in my mind, my birds. We agree the feeder should be full when the sun comes up. We agree the cat should watch from the safety of the window. We agree they are beautiful.
Two American Crows arrived at my feeder yesterday morning. They looked enormous, black against the white snow, towering over the Dark-eyed Juncos that vied with them for the sunflower seeds that had splashed to the ground. The one let out a few caws and soon both flew off.
The birds at my feeder this cold winter season have been fairly consistent: House Finch, the males turning more red through the winter; Goldfinch in their little yellow tuxedos; Black-capped Chickadee, ready to perch on my head while I refill the feeder; White-breasted Nuthatch peering head-down from a neighboring tree; Tufted Titmouse, their wide eyes in a constant state of alarm; White-throated Sparrows showing off their striped helmets; from time to time a splash of red that is the Cardinal; and a few Mourning Doves, like loaves of bread on a limb, waiting their turn to forage on the ground. I spend a lot of time with my binoculars watching them come and go. They become, in my mind, my birds. We agree the feeder should be full when the sun comes up. We agree the cat should watch from the safety of the window. We agree they are beautiful.
Perhaps the most common bird at the feeder is the House Finch, which is found throughout the United States. It is a native of western North American. House Finch were illegally caged and brought to the East Coast as pets. They called them “Hollywood Finch”(a much better name than House Finch!). In the 1940s, wanting to avoid prosecution, pet stores released the birds. And from there, they have spread. They could be considered invasive, though they belong on the continent.
It was while watching my birds one morning that I noticed a male House Finch with a clouded over eye. My heart sank. I took down the feeder even before looking up what might be wrong. Avian conjunctivitis is a disease that has spread on the East Coast in recent years. Infected birds become blind. Unable to find food, they die. I watched as the finch at my feeder dove in for a sunflower seed, then returned its good eye to vigilance. It needed that one eye for both seeing and to look out for a hungry Cooper’s Hawk that might rush through. Living with one eye clearly challenged the bird.
For a while, the Cornell Lab of Ornithology was tracking cases of the disease, which seems isolated to the House Finch. Funding dried up and the project shelved, but the disease clearly continues. Later that day, the DEC sent out an email reminding people to clean their bird feeders. Last year at this time, Redpolls had been dying from diseases, often spread at feeders. Feeders need to be cleaned every two weeks in a 10 percent bleach solution. It’s an odd feeling to be helping the birds and at once helping to spread illness. To feed or not?
A House Finch or two sick—does it matter? Yes and no. Yes, in that one sick bird can infect others. No in that it’s not a species that is endangered or even threatened. Still, from looking at the past, I know of those once-abundant species that are now extinct, like the Passenger Pigeon or the Carolina Parakeet. Could the House Finch become extinct? Who knows.
For now, my job is to keep the feeder full, and clean.