Ever since I was a wee lass I have loved watching the birds. The bird feeders around the yard were always full and we had a ready guide filled with photos and information about all the different species that flocked to visit. I used to pore through that book memorizing all the information I could about my feathered friends.

My dad always put a feeder just outside the kitchen window so that when my mom was making a meal or doing the dishes she could watch them feed. I remember when I was too small to see out that window, mom or dad would lift me up so I could catch a glimpse of whoever was out there. They loved the birds and their love was contagious.

I particularly loved watching for the cardinals – a splash of vivid red against the white winter landscape. And the tufted titmouse who reminded me of a cardinal only with silky gray feathers and a pointed crest. We always knew when spring was on the way because the male goldfinches would flit to the feeder with some of their feathers the dull olive green color of winter, and some a bright canary yellow. It wasn’t long before he was completely transformed into a saucy little fellow looking for his mate. But my most favorite bird of all was the little wren who used to huddle in the cornice of a column on our front porch in the winter. Every night after supper, my father would crook his finger to us kids and lead us to the front door. “Look,” he would whisper. Then he would shine a flashlight into the corner and there, puffed up to probably four times his natural size, was our wren. Why is he so fat,” we wanted to know. “That’s how he keeps himself warm,” dad would say with a wink. Every winter that little guy visited us and called that corner his home. And we loved him.

This past winter I made friends with the birds again. I put out a feeder and kept it full. I sprinkled some of the bird seed under the tree where the feeder hangs. After each snowfall I put out more. At first there were just a few birds. I watched as a rose-breasted nuthatch flowed headfirst down the tree to pick out a seed before flying off to enjoy it. A male cardinal, like a plump red berry, floated down to the ground to grab a sunflower seed. Soon there were all kinds of birds in my yard. One day I put out a suet feeder and found that there were four different kinds of woodpeckers feasting on the one feeder. So I went out and bought two more. A little downy woodpecker with the slash of red on the back of his head. A red-bellied woodpecker. A hairy woodpecker and a pileated woodpecker all found the suet and came back day after day for more. I was in heaven. They kept me entertained with their little spats and territorial games. And they helped make a long winter much more bearable.

Right now there is a cardinal calling outside my window. I can hear the red-winged blackbirds trilling across the street in the bog. One of the woodpeckers is drumming against a tree trunk hoping for some fresh insects. Soon, there will be Baltimore Orioles to add to the symphony and hummingbirds to add a touch of mystery. (How can they fly so fast?) I shall keep the seed out, but will probably stop putting out the suet as it can spoil once the hot weather comes. Once my stream is up and running, they will have a place to bathe and drink. And all I need to do is sit back, relax and enjoy my little slice of paradise.