Category Archives: Birding Disasters

My days of balcony birding may be nearing their end: this afternoon, I was sat at my computer, pecking through bird photos, when my neighbour came out on her balcony, looked directly into my apartment — directly at me! — and said “…a MESS!” Just that; nothing more. But it was plain what she was talking about. Clearly, some birds had gone and sat on her balcony, after using my feeder, and, ehh, left evidence of their passage. Now, I must point out, at this juncture, that I’m not entirely to blame. It’s spring. There are birds everywhere. They breed in the garden, and perch on everything in sight. Everybody’s balcony has bird lime on it, not just the ones round mine. But, yes, I acknowledge a bit of fault. I do encourage them to perch here.

A finch peers at me, curiously.

At any rate, the moment was so awkward I had no idea what to say. I looked back at her, quite aghast; I hadn’t realised the building was designed such that people could peer directly into one another’s living rooms. It had never occurred to me to try such a thing. So I found myself gawking quite rudely, which I’m sure didn’t help, in the least.

For some reason, the male house finch resists having his picture taken. Every time I get out the camera, he flits mockingly out of range.

I got out my long-handled mop, and cleared away what I could, from her railing (which was, I think, most of it) — but there were a couple of splotches I couldn’t get to. So I popped round and knocked on her door, meaning to offer my assistance in wiping up the rest, but nobody answered. I left a note. An awkward note. How could it be otherwise, given the circumstances? “Yeah, I noticed you looking in my window, complaining about the bird shit — shall I come over and take care of that, for you?” (That’s not quite what I wrote, of course; I certainly didn’t say “shit.”)

This finch is pecking through the stones, looking for stray birdseed. Apparently, she is finding plenty.

Thing is, there’s a chance she’ll get back to me with a counterproposal, namely, that I get rid of the feeder. And I don’t like to be a jackass; if that’s where she stands, I’ll have to comply. I’ll miss my birds terribly, of course. One can’t get so close to them, outside, especially the shy ones, like the finches. And I’ve been getting lots of finches, lately, far more than last year; don’t take my finches away, mess-hating neighbour lady!

Eat up!

At any rate, here are several finch shots, that I might remember them, if I’m made to give them up.

Relieved Update: the lady’s comment wasn’t about my birds, at all. The guy who actually lives there came over, and said it was his girlfriend who was on the balcony, and that the mess she was referring to was soil that came out of the planters because of all the rain. In fact, he thought I was mad at him for putting out a cashew for the birds, because he saw my mop coming across! Ha, ha! What a relief!

I haven’t forgotten about birds! I’ve just been frightfully busy — and, speaking of frightful, I’ve come back with a tale of gore, guts, and, ehh…gyrfalcons? — guaranteed to make your skin crawl. (In fact, it’s a brief anecdote about one bird eating another bird, while a third bird tries to horn in on the snack, but let’s not let facts get in the way of grandstanding.)

On with the tale! At some point last week, I was sitting by the window, watching a fluffy young northern flicker, of the red-shafted variety, trying out its brand new wings. It was stretching them out and folding them back up, as though it simply enjoyed the way it felt, and coincidentally giving the world a lovely view of its bright red plumage. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one enjoying the display: almost the instant I turned my back, I heard a horrific scream from the courtyard. I turned around, just in time to see the poor flicker being borne off by a hungry THING. (I call it a THING not in a perjorative fashion, but because I didn’t get a good look at it, and have no idea what it was.) At any rate, off flew the THING, with the flicker’s dying squeaks tailing off in its wake. And up surged a gull, from its rooftop nest, and flapped off in hot pursuit. The THING wheeled. The gull undercut it. Both beat their wings furiously, and vanished behind the treeline, where I presume one or the other (or both) devoured the poor flicker.

And here they are, all three — you can just see the flicker’s beak sticking out, beneath the THING; I think it’s still alive, there:

The gull is not trying to save the flicker from the voracious thing. It’s trying to snatch it for itself. I see gulls quite frequently, snatching other birds’ prey. Lazy gits.

Dreadful shot, I know. They were halfway to the trees already, before I could snatch up my camera. In truth, I didn’t think I’d caught the THING, at all; I was so certain I’d only snapped the gull, I didn’t bother checking, till today.

(If you can identify the THING, please speak up. It’s quite a handsome THING, I think. I’d like to see it again, or failing that, a better picture of one.)