Summer's End

Last Friday did not go as expected. Sometimes you have to do very hard things because they are the right thing to do.

I was can-watering my garden (because our daily highs are back in the 80s again) and thoroughly enjoying all the mourning glories (yes, I spell it that way intentionally; Lizard helped me plant the seeds but didn't get to see the beautiful blue flowers) and the radiant cosmos.

I noticed some birds munching on the sunflower seeds; almost all the sunflowers are expired. I've left the stalks up because the birds love the seeds, and we're not supposed to put out feeders anymore during bear season, which now lasts almost to the end of November. I don't think I've put out feeders since the winter before I retired to focus solely on caregiving.

I went inside to grab my camera, then perched beneath the pergola to wait for the birds to return. I had planned to maybe try to get up in the mountains to shoot some fall color, but I also was extremely intimidated by doing it alone for the first time in more than 21 years. I knew Lizard would want me to go, but so many firsts are just so hard to tackle. I decided birds would be just as worthy of my time, and I wouldn't have to spend any money on gas.

I noticed one female goldfinch on the cosmos, a little too close to me. She should have flown away when I took my seat. And I hadn't been seeing any goldfinches in about a week. I thought they should have begun their migration already. I snapped a super cute photo. (This is not the photo.)

She turned her head in the opposite direction, and my heart broke. Her eye was swollen shut, and I realized she's probably almost blind. Her beak also was swollen, with blood clots on her cheek.

Birders in my area have been asked for a couple of years not to put out feeders because a highly contagious infection was spreading throughout the songbird population. It can affect household pets, too.

I looked up what I should do, and it was pretty harsh. Wear gloves. Take down all the sunflower stalks. Dispose of them, and don't put them where other animals/pets can get to them. Wash clothes. Wash shoes if they came in contact with the plants. Sanitize anything touched, including the trash bin. And tell the trash guys to wash their hands after they handle the trash.

And finally, don't worry, the instructions said. The affected birds are not going to last long anyway, and the healthy birds will find other seeds.

Just to be safe and to prevent spreading to the rest of the birds as best I can, I also took down the cosmos where the little bird had landed. I did not see where the bird went when I began taking down the sunflowers.

I hired the kids down the street who had been advertising trash bin cleaning and happily spent the money that would have gone to fall color gas. I made sure they knew they would need to clean themselves up after cleaning my bin to make sure they don't spread the virus to their pets. They were so thankful for the work and the unexpected monetary tip, they said the cleanup would be no problem. They'd handled worse. I didn't ask.

My backyard is now sunflowerless (except for two plants that surprisingly haven't bloomed yet), and the bluejays have discovered the cracked walnuts I left in the (dry) bird bath in threes in order to try to get a photograph and hoping like heck the squirrels wouldn't steal.

I'm still sad about the little bird, but when God closes a door, He always opens a window. The bluejays refuse to pose, but I've now seen my second ever Woodhouse scrub jay!

Tweet

Pin It