These birds want to be movie stars |

These birds want to be movie stars

Fried Rice
Heidi Rice
Glenwood Springs, CO Colorado

“You know, I used to watch chicks at the bar on Friday nights,” Husband-Head mused out loud the other weekend. “Now they’re birds ” things sure have changed.”

I wholeheartedly agreed.

Not that I ever watched chicks, but our Friday nights have definitely changed from what they were back then.

We sat in our rockers on the front porch and continued to watch the birds flitting around our recently installed bird feeder.

Our front yard is like a friggin’ bird sanctuary with the feeder, a pond with a spouting fountain and a green frog that spurts water out of its mouth, along with a tree next to it all.

“Do you think the birds have some kind of order when they go to the feeder?” I asked Husband-Head. “It seems it can only fit about five little birds at a time. How do they decide who gets to go when?”

Husband-head rocked back and forth in his chair and studied the situation.

“I think if one guy has been on there a few minutes, you just fly into him and push him out of the way and the next batch gets to go,” he summed up, as if he knew the slightest THING about bird mentality or their habits.

I’m not sure exactly WHY we decided to get a bird feeder ” as we already have two dogs and a cat to feed ” but it must have seemed like a good idea at the time.

We watched what looked like the pecking order as some of the little birds would fly up and push away the other little birds. And along with the little brown birds, there were those who had red, yellow or green heads. Then, there were the bigger birds who would belly up to the bird bar and push everyone else away.

“I’m sort of rooting for the little guys,” I said while watching.

“I like the guys with the green heads and the yellow heads,” Husband-Head cast his vote. “They’re, like, Green Bay Packer birds.”

What amazed me the most was how much these birds could eat. We were going through at least a 20-pound bag of bird seed in less than a week.

“They’re not birds, they’re like little pigs with wings,” I told Husband-Head. “I have to fill that stupid thing at least once a day.”

“And they’re pretty messy eaters,” Husband-Head observed. “There’s more food on the ground than there is in the feeder. It’ll probably become mouse food.”

He turned and grinned at the horrified look on my face, knowing that I’m deathly afraid of mice.

We continued to rock away as we watched the birds.

“Birdy, birdy in the sky … why’d you do that in my eye?” I sang out to an old childhood rhyme.

Just then, there was a huge ruckus in the tree. We couldn’t see them, but we could hear them.

“Tweep … Tweep … Tweep-tweep-TWEEP!”

It seemed as if there were hundreds of birds rustling around in the tree and let’s just say, they were NOT playing well together at all.

“Wow,” I said, rocking in my chair, looking at Husband-Head. “What do you think they’re fighting about? Are we going to see little dead bird bodies flying out of the tree?”

That would not exactly fit in with the serene scene we were trying to establish.

Then as soon as it started ” it stopped.

The next thing we knew there were literally, what seemed like HUNDREDS of birds flying around the yard ” at the bird feeder, in the tree, standing in the yard, perched above on the power lines …

“Oh my GAWD! This is like an Alfred Hitchcock movie!” I screamed, running back into the house for shelter. “What have we done?”

Husband-Head was right behind me.

“The BIRDS!” he said, pulling his sweatshirt over his head as he ran.

We were referring to the famous 1963 horror movie directed by Hitchcock in which a bunch of birds terrorize and kill people.

But yet the next night, we were back out rocking in our chairs and watching our feathered friends once again.

“Guess what movie remake is coming out this summer?” I asked Husband-Head.

Husband-Head didn’t know.

“Alfred Hitchcock’s ‘The Birds,'” I said with a laugh.

Heidi Rice is a reporter for the Post Independent. Her column runs every Friday. Visit her web site at

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