A bird feeder and no birds

The Rockies lost to the Diamondbacks to go down two games to three in the series. Charlie was watching the final inning from his highchair. I baked a white pizza with spinach. I further divided the two remaining pieces into sixteen mouth poppers for Charlie. I don't want him choking during the game. I think Charlie has skipped his nap today. We went to the Children's Museum this morning after breakfast. He slept for ten minutes in the back of the hot car. He laid down for a while, but shortly thereafter, I noticed his quiet talking over the monitor. Maybe this means he'll go to bed before 10pm.

A finch finally found the feeder outside the French doors. It was my present for Father's Day. It hangs from a three foot piece of twine. The twine is tied to a drywall screw placed in the center of the soffit behind the guttering. At first I hung it on hook for outdoor candles shaped like a shepherd's staff. After an afternoon with no birds I moved it. I thought it was too low to the ground. If I were a bird, I'd want to be in a higher place to eat. I found a use for the hundred feet of metal electrical conduit propped up against the tan brick of the fireplace on the south side of the house that my father-in-law brought over.

The shepherd's staff fit like a glove into the pipe. That raised the bird feeder almost six feet off the ground. The next morning, instead of a bird, a squirrel was perched on the small copper plate at the bottom of the feeder. I opened the French doors and shouted. The squirrel fell to the ground and scurried up the tired fence. I'm worried. If I get more than two squirrels on one section of fence at the same time, I think it will fall over. I need to replace it. The house we share the fence with is for sale. The woman who used to live there fed pigeons every morning. She also took in stray cats. The pigeons haven't returned. I hope they don't learn about my feeder. I still see some of the cats though. A sly gray one slips through the gaps where the fence pickets are missing. I'll wait until someone buys the place. And let them split the cost of a new fence. I fear for strong winds too, not only for the fence to be blown over, but also the sickly cottonwood tree. It is the tallest tree in the neighborhood. When people get old and stand with difficultly, we coax them into wheelchairs. That old cottonwood needs to be cut down before it crashes into our house. I don't actually care if it falls on our house. I would want advance warning to get out with Jill and Charlie. That's what I value. I can't think of anything else I would take with me if the house was on fire. Maybe those three carats of tanzanite I bought for Jill from the home shopping channel. I still want to have them mounted and made into earrings. I guess pictures of Charlie and Jill are second to the real things. I'd come back for pictures. Everything else could be replaced. There are a few things that I would purposefully take back into the house if it were on fire. For example, one of Charlie's talking Barney toys which is in a box in the basement. If it happened to be out on the driveway when the flames were licking the dry shake shingles, I'd rush to feed the fire with its' plastic parts and electronic babble. It doesn't have an off switch or batteries. It won't turn off. It constantly cycles through a bevy of annoying songs. I'm not sure a fire would even stop it. I would end up hearing it in my dreams. The guilt would torment me. The event would be my 'Tell tale heart'.

I would rescue Silky. Silky is Charlie's blue silk comfort blanket. He is inconsolable without Silky. I would risk my life for Silky. Silky cannot be replaced. Literally. Its manufacturer is out of business. Charlie can spot a Silky phony without hesitation. I believe it is the smell. It has been exposed to everything his hands have touched; dirt, dead flies, toilet water. It has been pooped on, peed on, drooled on, thrown up on and dragged across the floor. Charlie is on the floor now in front of the television. He is lying on his back, watching a muscle car auction, eating a month old chocolate chip cookie. I love him. He asked me for a kiss today. That was a first. I've always had to request it. It was right after he'd finished his pizza. I scooted his chair next to mine so he could look out the French doors at the Finches. He looked right at me and smiled.

"Kiss." He said. He doesn't purse his lips. He raises his little chin and focuses his vision on infinity. His mouth was slimed with roasted garlic and shortbread cookie crumbs. I licked my lips instead of wiping them. I love him infinitely.

Anyway, the squirrels were able to grip the metal piping and scamper up from the ground to the feeder. I shouted more. I took the shepherd's crook out of the conduit. I stuck it in the ground. Even though it was much thinner, they could still get up it. That's when I relocated the feeder to hang from the soffit outside the French doors. First, I screwed it in the soffit too close to the roofline. The squirrels took to the trees and jumped on the roof. From the roof, they descended the twine to land on the feeder. I shouted. I relocated the hanging spot closer to the house. The squirrels then scaled the brick façade around the French doors and leaped onto the feeder. A rodent swinging the feeder into the door glass sounds just like someone trying to break into the house. I have two good reasons now to get a gun. Intruders and squirrels. No matter how clever those squirrels were, they couldn't ever figure out how to get the food out of the hole designed for the beak of a finch. After a week near heart attacks every night, the squirrels gave up. Now the birds are here. Being a father has perks.

I think I'll try to put Charlie down for his nap now. He is getting cranky. I just changed his diaper. The milk is warm. What did I do with Silky?

*Originally written on 7/12/09