Tuesday, November 16, 2021 (November’s fullest moon [“Beaver”] rises on the 19th.)
At my place, feeding birds is a biggie. Beside filling feeders for wild ones (currently migrating and numbering in the thousands), I keep domestic types. I’ve a small flock of young chickens, an elderly hen (x-flock) living in my garage, a Cockatoo named Peaches living between big windows in the living room, and rescued racing pigeon, Gilbert, a fixture in the dining room.
Feeding wild birds calls for bulk packaged feeds. My reward is watching various types busy at the feeders, and seeing dropped seeds drawing tiny ground-bound critters. Both birds and critters are quick observers, they appear immediately upon spotting available feed.
The old hen in my garage, Welsumer, watches all my moves, eagerly pressures me for food treats. She loves “gummie bugs”, lettuces, fruit, scrambled eggs, pizza, taquitos. Essentially, she gets lots of whatever Peaches is eating.
Peaches loves people food, particularly crunchies, anything with a crust. Plus, bacon, cheese, and chicken leg bones (he splits them and goes for marrow). He receives some of all those, plus parrot food, fruit, and unshelled nuts.
My little flock outside and living with the goats get to enjoy some of those. Their main food is a top-brand kibble, and they peck around for multi-grain scratch, sweet cob, and fruit. Their favorite treat is bread pieces, but I’ve become stingy because they grab eagerly and too-often find my fingers.
Easiest to feed is Gilbert, a very particular eater, refuses all except the foods he knows. His basic diet combines high-quality layer feed and small parrot kibbles. He gets “extras”, multi-grain scratch and blanched, unsalted, peanuts. Gilbert adores peanuts.
I shop for food with the birds in mind, they’re a big deal. I simply can’t find us lacking varieties of fresh lettuces, fruits, and cheeses, and without frozen little pizzas and taquitos. Thus, I eat the birds’ foods, but wine is mine alone.
Dear Friends: Last week, Old Welsummer laid a formed, very thin-shelled egg, she’s almost twelve! Diana