If you’ve been reading this Covid log (clog?), you’ll know that I get excited when I see new birds. I’m like a pretend birder because I don’t really look for birds anywhere except outside my window. For the 2nd year in a row, the Baltimore Orioles have come to hang at Stewart Lake.
No, not THOSE Orioles. But holy geeky, eh Batman?
But the confession isn’t about being a long time Baltimore Orioles (the club) fan. Though I do confess my fandom, and did you know Brooks Robinson – number 5 – was also born on May 18th?
I confess that the gorgeous orange and black…or yellowish-orange and black (female) birds are driving me up the wall! Of course when they showed up, I wanted them to come to my deck. So I cut up oranges and put some grape jelly out on the old feed table. And did they come? Yes they did! One at a time, mind you. A couple of adult males, one adult female, and a couple of immature males (and you know how THEY can be!) It’s great!
But then the other morning, I heard a bird starting to tweet at 6:30 am. A simple, single, long, loud TWEEEET. I hadn’t hear this before. A new bird? I stood in the yard in my pajamas, with my binoculars, looking up and trying to follow the sound. And wouldn’t you know it? It was an Oriole. A song/call I’d never heard from them before. Problem is, it tweeted that tweet ALL DAY until 8:30 pm! Only stopping to load up on jelly and oranges (now accounting for half my weekly grocery budget.) The next morning, it started at 5:30 am! All. Day. Long.
Maybe I’ll stop feeding them. So I can sleep in. Maybe when this container of grape jelly is done…ya maybe then…