It was months ago. You bought a finch feeder, a mesh yellow bag full of niger seed, and hung it in the tree outside the kitchen window. Then you waited. It wouldn’t be long, you thought. At your last house, the finches came within days.
You were wrong. Other birds visited. Hummingbirds found the new hummingbird feeder. Stellar jays and blue jays showed up. Also, a mama deer stood on her back legs, front legs on a broken old feeder, and snuffled up all the bird seed that you put out. This was not the plan, but it was OK. She has two babies, fawns with spots who frolic through the front flower bed, eating the tiny apples that fall on the ground. Hurray! You think. Those bouncing apples are finally going to good use.
As the months pass, you forget about the finch feeder. It swings on the branch, high up in the tree.
Until there is a day. An ordinary September day. You are standing by the kitchen window, pouring a glass of ice tea, and there they are. Finches. Two at first, golden and bright. Later, a third. Just like that. For months, there was an empty feeder. And then, everything changed.
The finches will be here now, as long as you keep seed in the feeders. They will share the tree with you. They will not go away again.
This is good to remember. There are days that break your heart, and days when nothing seems like it will ever change. The same view out the same window. The same lunch bags and ice packs, water bottles and frying pans. Days of waiting, and wondering if it matters at all.
Except it does. It all matters. And when you least expect it, a flash of yellow comes and lights carefully on the feeder outside your window.
