It doesn’t surprise me that a number of ball clubs have chosen birds as their mascots, such as the Toronto Blue Jays and St. Louis Cardinals. I find it more compatible than, say, the Pirates, Rays or any of the Native American tribes.
The habit has caught on with my children. I visit their homes and see feeders at each dwelling. Truth be told, it’s usually the wife who handles the feeding. They get the predators, too.
Each morning I hear a symphony outside my door. The birds are harmonizing. It’s nature’s call and I’m inspired by it. The ducks always get fed at my lake in summer. Sometimes they’ll eat right out of my hand. I have one loon.
“About time to pack it all in,” came my wife’s voice recently. “It’s almost winter. The birds will be just fine. They’ll forage for food on their own very self sufficiently.”
That may be true, but I’ll miss the visits.
Writer and photographer Tom Vartabedian is retired from The Haverhill Gazette. He contributes this regular column.