On Labor Day 2022, we visited relatives on Cape Cod. They have been feeding blueberries to the birds in their yard. It all started when a catbird boldly stole a blueberry right out of a cereal bowl as they were sitting on their deck, almost as brazen as a seagull grabbing a sandwich from a toddler at the beach.
Since then they have been generously putting out a small bowl of blueberries each day so the birds can have their own treats. Catbirds, robins, and cardinals have been the main visitors and some are quite tolerant of human activity nearby on the deck, with catbirds being the boldest and most vocal, and the cardinals the most shy. This year my brother-in-law wrote a poem (see below) that beautifully and amusingly captures the asymmetrical relationship that develops over the course of a season.
As I was photographing a catbird at the blueberry bowl, a yellowjacket also came to the bowl. The catbird calmly plucked it out, dropped it (now lifeless) on the railing for a moment, and then picked it up again and ate it.
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Blueberries
By Stewart Pattison
Sometime, late May or sothe catbirds comelooking for blueberries.It is our guilty pleasure placinga shallow bowlof small round, primary colored fruit.We are not fishing or baiting.We wait for the arrivaland the indignant glare,pacing the deck railas if to say, “Where are they?What sort of summer place is this?”That is our cue.When we return, the disgruntled travelers are gone.And so, the dance of summer begins.
Joined by robins, the morning blues do not last long.We do not replenish the bowl.It is a single extravagance.We hope that soon bushes, their ornamentswee, round and navy will flourish in the woods andby the pond; seeded by our ulterior motives.
It is September now.For two days now the berries have goneuntasted.The cacophony of morning song is still.And so, we sigh and know loss.We do not flatter ourselves thatour grief is reciprocated.
September 9, 2023
