Now I can imagine someone saying, “If I had a yard, I, too, would try to have bird neighbors.” Listen! Before I had a yard I had bird neighbors on my porch.
How did I get them?
In summer, a basin of water on the porch railing, and in winter, the basin filled with table scraps—this is what did it. On the porch of that apartment house I learned how to neighbor with birds.
A kind lady in the next house tied suet and strings of peanuts to one of her trees. During winter and spring the woodpeckers enjoyed the treat, while we enjoyed the woodpeckers! Pigeons and bluejays came too, and, yes, English sparrows, those birds that are nowhere welcome. But they didn’t have it all their own way there, as they do where nothing is done to attract other birds.
One winter day a beautiful blue and white pigeon with rose-colored neck came in at an open window. The streets were covered with snow. It was hard for birds to find anything to eat. This pigeon ate some rolled oats that I scattered before it, drank some water, and walked into a corner. After a nap it ate some more; then took another nap. When it awoke again I set it in a waste-paper basket by the open window, so it could go away when it pleased. It took several more helpings of oats. Toward evening it flew away.
Among the pigeons that used to come often to my porch was my little guest of a day. As the pigeons ate they always cooed. Perhaps they were remarking how good it tasted.
In early spring the robins came. They liked little scraps of meat. Chopped raw beef was to them the greatest treat. At the basin they not only drank, but spread their wings over it and splashed the water all around, trying to bathe in that shallow dish. It was only a big flower-pot saucer. While the weather was still cold, they began to sing mornings before daylight. It was like listening to Christmas carols to hear them.
On mild and thawing days they could be seen hopping over my neighbor’s lawn. Most cunningly they would turn their heads to one side, then to the other. It is said that they do this so they can hear the worms and insects move about in the ground. I believe it; for often I have seen a robin, after listening intently at some spot, stop to scratch and dig, then pull out a worm.
The robins often pulled and jerked at the morning-glory vines on our porch. Whenever they got one loose they would gather it up in loops with the bill and carry it away. They also tore strings off our mop and flew away with them.
On a pillar of our porch there hung a can in which we sometimes put flowers. One rainy April day a little wren alighted on the edge of that can and looked in. The can was empty at the time, so the bird went inside, but came out again quickly and flew away.