The Evening Grosbeaks, Coccothraustes vespertinus, returned in force this afternoon. One or two have been showing up near the feeders for weeks but they have seemed somewhat detached and lost; looking around as one does when arriving first at a restaurant and the rest of the expected party has not yet arrived. Today, however, the party arrived. The problem was that they didn’t like the table that was prepared for them.
All through the winter I have kept the tube and suet feeders well stocked. However in an effort to prevent the local squirrels from eating more than ten pounds of black oil sunflower seed each week I have intentionally not filled a gazebo-style feeder that includes a broad expanse of a feeding tray covered by a cedar-shingled roof. This particular feeder the squirrels have designated as not only their first choice for a buffet but as a sleeping porch as well for the fifteen minutes each day that they are actually satiated and not engaged in eating.
The problem is that the grosbeaks don’t particularly fancy the tube feeders. They can use them perfectly well, as witnessed by the repeated visits to it by the early arriving few seen so far this year. Yet like teen-agers on a prom date, the fine colors of their new plumage and the hormones racing through their systems must be putting them into a mood that makes them dissatisfied with the ordinary drive-ins and diners in which they usually eat. They impatiently insist on the most exclusive eating establishment, whether it’s open or not.
Thus the rather peeved-looking grosbeaks sat on the branches surrounding the gazebo feeder. They stared quizzically at both the feeder and one another as if saying “I don’t get it – it was open at this time last year!” As any good proprietor would, I dutifully took the message, cleaned out the remaining old shells, and filled it with fresh seed – even scattering a little around the edge of the feeding tray for an appetizer.
Since the feeder was reopened for business, not a single grosbeak has been seen near it. Word must have gotten around. The avian fine dining community can be fickle and unforgiving indeed. I’ve certainly lost the grosbeak equivalent of at least one of my Michelin stars. C’est la vie. At least the squirrels will be happy.
Peace and good bird watching.
