The sun was almost gone. I stepped out the door to go water my tomatoes and blueberries.
A young dove was at the edge of the patio maybe six feet from me quietly pecking away below the feeder, but at my movement jumped off and waddled a few steps away in the yard, and then, with a better trajectory to the safety of the skies should it be needed, turned back to see. Feederfiller?
I played the blinking game. Predators are the ones who stare.
It went Oh okay, then, and did a little hop back up onto the patio towards me and resumed eating.
A finch flew in but flinched when I moved–and I heard the metal perch groan softly as the little bird’s weight left it. That has a sound? Who knew? The finch chirped a small scold as it left, and I heard that, too. I wanted to hear it all.
A chickadee darted in briefly to the suet cage above my head as I continued to hold still, and then I carefully walked in a wide, slow path around the dove so as not to startle it away. Having begun to make friends from the same side of the glass at last, it seemed to me that the next time I might want to pull up a chair at my zero-UV hour with some sunflower seeds in my hand. Maybe, just maybe.
But for now I had to take care of my plants, too, before it got too dark to see that beautiful first blush of red on that plum out there.