#878: The bird feeder

It’s the beginning of March, and we’ve been hit with a freezing-rain-blowing-snow late-winter storm. We’ve just come back from swimming lessons. The only thing I want to do is go soak in a bath right away. The Girl, however, has kept her boots and winter coat back on, and is headed back out the front door.

She has in her hand the birdfeeder that we had taken down last week, to clean and re-fill, which we haven’t been doing regularly all winter. She knows that they haven’t had their feed in a few weeks. She is concerned enough about her feathered friends in this storm that she’ll go back out into this March madness.

Mourning dove mama and squab outside our window, in less wintry times

Sure enough, upon re-entering, she tells me proudly, “As soon as I put the birdfeeder out, a mourning dove came down and started eating.” I tease her that her motivation is only to plump up the birds for her real love, cats. But deep down, I know that she does what she does because she has a kind heart and is a real animal-lover. And no foul weather will deter her.


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