While I love birdwatching, it's safe to say I don't love every bird I encounter. For example, house finches are a species that have never been high on my list of favorites. It's probably because they're everywhere. Or it's because they're not especially attractive with their plain features and dull colors. So, bah humbug to the house finch!
They join the mourning doves in being the two easiest native bird species for any birder to find in the wild. (Of course a person living in a city will have no problem quickly identifying house sparrows, starlings, or rock pigeons: all introduced from Europe.) And when it's time for you to take your interest in our feathered friends to a higher level (e.g. installing a seed feeder in your backyard) I guarantee the finches and doves will be the first indigenous visitors.
Fortunately these birds are not endangered and are actually expanding their ranges and numbers in America. As a result I'm not especially concerned with their individual plights. Well, except for one particular house finch, this holiday season's Tiny Tim if ever there was one.
Of course my sudden change of heart is through no fault of my own but rather due to the cardinals and towhees in my backyard. With yet another several months of continued COVID cloistering ahead of us, I have a new winter activity in Phoenix: supplying sunflower seeds to a colorful pair of northern cardinals and an inseparable pair of Abert's towhees.
They're a captivating quartet. The female cardinal is gentle and poised as she patiently waits for me to place a few seeds on or near the block wall a couple of yards away from her. In contrast, the brightly-colored scarlet male nervously flutters away when I approach with the kibble, only returning to dine when I disappear. Meanwhile the much plainer and calmer towhees call for their handouts with gentle, endearing toots from just a few feet away.
So yes, with all the many other birds in my neighborhoods - verdins, thrashers, doves, finches, flickers, sparrows, starlings, woodpeckers, quails, etc. - I've identified exactly two species that I go out of my way to feed. (Of course, the hummingbirds have a nectar feeder and are a completely different story.)
If I left seeds out in a proper feeder like I do for the 'mountain' birds in Prescott, there would never be enough food left over for the rarer finds like the towhees and, especially, the cardinals. Nonetheless the interlopers like the mourning doves in Phoenix manage to nab some of the seeds and even congregate in anticipation of them. For all I know they're also feasting on the cracked casings and other detritus that my preferred guests leave behind.
In the crowd of birds scouring my garden's beds and lawn, the house finches of course make up the largest number. They're noisy in their desperate attempts to find any kind of food as the weather suddenly turns cold. Usually non-descript in their small size and drab coloring, one female or immature male has been standing out because of its lame leg.
Its right limb is splayed outwards, apparently useless, as it perches on a tree branch that only its left claws grip for balance. When the bird lands, it can't hold itself upright one-legged for very long so it hugs the ground as it hobbles for food, dragging its lame appendage behind. Fortunately it flies as well as any bird, even if its hanging leg might be acting as a kind of drag on its flight's aerodynamic efficiency.
So of all the dozens of house finches that might be visiting my yard and after all the years the species has disinterested me, one little individual has suddenly piqued my curiosity. I've officially added the bird to my exclusive list of backyard visitors to whom I'll venture outside to toss sunflower seeds. Of course, it's still a wild, wary animal, terrified of me as it tweets in alarm, escaping to the lysiloma tree until I'm a safe distance away.
As the cardinals and towhees make their regular backyard stops for sunflower seeds in their respective pairs, the finch always appears alone. I worry its deformity frightens other members of the species, who might keep it out of any house finch games and a chance at survival. As for me, the tiny little bird's handicap has finally melted a finch Grinch's icy heart.
 |
| House finch with lame leg in my Phoenix yard. |
 |
| House finch with lame leg in my Phoenix yard. |
 |
| House finch with splayed, lame leg in my Phoenix yard. |
 |
| House finch with splayed, lame leg in my Phoenix yard. |
Comments
Post a Comment