I used to wonder about people who fed birds. It seemed quaint, nice, even interesting at times. It was something that grandmothers or nature-people did, but it wasn’t as popular as video games or SUVs or McMansions or doing well in school.
Feeding birds was something that lonely people did. Old folks were lonely so they fed birds for company.
Nature folks just did it because nature was their priority.
Then my wife starting “doing it” too – putting out bird seed, bird houses, buying a bird feeder.
Then the birds starting coming around. More birds. More variety.
Gold finches. Black Capped Chickadees. Robins. Northern Cardinals. Tufted Titmouse. Nuthatches. Downy Woodpeckers. Wrens. Finches. Bluejays. Sparrows. Doves. Juncos. Starlings. Red-winged Starlings. Other varieties.
Each with their own behaviors and habits. Their fealfulness or fearlessness. Their curiosity.
Each with their own chips, trills, whistles and songs. Some that chip and trill and whisltle and sing while I am putting out seed or when I am waking in the morning.
My life is richer for this newfound relationship.
That is one reason why feeding the birds matters.