Okay, I still don’t get it, but I’m not complaining this time.
Above is one of the photos I couldn’t get iPhoto to download before. Yesterday afternoon, suddenly, I could.
I took this shot while sitting in my comfy chair on the shady porch overlooking the sparkling lake. (You may have noticed a trend in the photos recently. I don’t think I left the porch much at all on my last visit to Roundrock.) This is the feeder #3 Son and his wife gave me several years ago. While others have come and gone at Roundrock, this one is the only feeder that has survived. We had it hanging from a tree branch over by the fire ring for a long time, and the birds seemed to find it there without any trouble.
But we couldn’t really see it from the porch, and when we did lean out and turn our heads, we couldn’t see it very well anyway. So I thought I would move it more in front of the porch where we could watch it and be entertained as we took our leisure. The trouble was, there were no accessible branches in that area for hanging it from. So I got that iron post you see to stand in for the branch.
And the trouble with that was that the ground there is quite rocky. I couldn’t simply push the two prongs of its base into the soil — there was no soil. So I took a steel rod (that the builders left behind when they poured the floor of the cabin) and the sledge hammer and pounded a couple of holes for the prongs. I pounded until I hit solid rock, but that seemed deep enuf, and the prongs settled into place easily. (I should probably pile some rocks on and around the post to firm it up. Some big critter — probably a raccoon — has tried to get in the feeder before, and I don’t know if the post is solid enuf to withstand those kinds of gyrations.)
Then I filled and hung the feeder. The nuthatches and titmice and cardinals (and even one phoebe) flitted about but seemed wary of this old thing in a new place. Perhaps a hour passed before one of them dared to land on it. The brave bird was a titmouse. Once the spell was broken, though, the little things found the courage to come and go the whole time we were there. All of the birds deferred to the titmice, who must be the bullies of the neighborhood, but by the time we left that day, there was still plenty of seed in the feeder.