Down in LA the type of things that got me excited were a good class at “The Path” and no traffic on the 405 (right—like that ever happened.)
So when my birthday rolled around and my mom got me a finch sock, I was a little puzzled. What was I supposed to do with this exactly? Feed the birds?
Fair enough. I could see the value in helping the country wildlife. So I hung up the sock and waited for my feathered friends to find it.
When they came, I was fairly entertained. The finches were bright yellow and tiny and fun to watch. They ate lots, too, so I found myself at Wal-Mart shortly after hanging the sock in search of finch food. When I found the 20 pound bag (I had a lot of finches showing up) it was thirty bucks. “I’m not paying thirty bucks for bird food that grows naturally,” I told my mom in a grand protest.
We searched for discount finch food and finally found some at—guess where—the tractor store…obviously. Only one thing: these finches prefer designer thistle to the discount thistle. Some came, but not as many, and, well, I missed them.
Mom and I were discussing Mother’s Day gifts and I jokingly said, “I could get you some designer finch food!” Well, her eyes lit up the stadium lights at the high school football game!
Who was I to disappoint? So back to Wal-Mart for finch food. (I know. I live a fast life.) When I got to the finch food aisle I saw these way cool finch condo things with not one but two socks and an easy loading mechanism. Feeling crazy, I just bought two along with two bags of food. (I had the same feeling I have when leaving Nordstrom’s after their half-annual women and children’s sale, which sadly I think I will be missing this year.)
I got home, hung the condo closer to the kitchen window so I could see, but the birds weren’t coming. Should I make a sign? Perhaps a trail of seed from one feeder to the next? What the hell was happening to me? Would I start asking forest creatures to sew me a dress while I hummed a tune?
Well, today, I walked into the kitchen and just started laughing. My finch condo was covered with about 30 bright-yellow little beauties. The joy I felt watching this scene surprised me. Maybe, I thought, the joy we find in the simple things is the purest joy around. Either that or I’m turning into the pigeon lady. If you see me scattering seed in a local park wearing a floppy hat, somebody stop me.
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