Bird Blog #9 - A Man and his Black-eyed Junco (A love story)

 Dear Diary,

It's been a month since I've been home... Okay, maybe just a few hours, but it seems like months. I've been living off the land in my backyard. "Have I slipped completely into madness?" I inquire meekly to myself. "DON'T ANSWER THAT!," I scold myself out loud, hoping I didn't rouse the neighbor's dog. I catch my reflection in a human's house window. My hair and beard is unkempt and littered with grass and straw. My eyes are bloodshot red. 

It all started with a phone alert from my Humbirdy bird feeder camera that a Black-eyed Junco had been spotted. This was a few weeks back when I was still living in the house. Getting a visit from a unique bird species is getting rarer - it's been a little over a month since I set it up, so most Michigan birds for this season have made appearances - though I have a few yet still to score. Some are quite ubiquitous while others have been just a one-and-done, like the Carolina Wren - who, like me - had wandered far from home. Any way, back to my story... I lose my train of thought more and more these days as the temperature continues to drop. Speaking of trains... I like trains. Oh yah, so the Black-eyed Junco! It is a small black-and-white sparrow. They are ground-foraging birds that naturally prefer eating on the ground rather than the opulence of my elevated feeder. I learned this when I still had access to book learnin. I may have to record my memories by scratching on the barks of trees... or use these... WHAT are they called again?... LEAVES! Use leaves as a type of papyrus before I lose them completely. Any way, these birds may not be as flamboyant and colorful as some of those loud show birds... but the black & white reminds me of a simpler time of black & white tvs and Leave it to Beaver. "Gee, Wally, I hope I don't have to fight any beaver," I mumbled. But after that camera appearance... NOTHING. Until I spotted them BENEATH the feeder. Hopping and scratching on the ground. They seemed... happier than the birds receiving their seed welfare at the trough. That's when I decided that I too would live out my remaining days foraging for grubs and leftovers... Sometimes I score a half-buried nut left by one of them... WHAT are they called again?... SQUIRRELS! "Stupid rodents!," I state, while right side chewing the nut -, since that's the only tooth I have left. A breeze blows and I get a whiff of myself. Oh well... the birds don't mind. I twitch my head to the side thinking I heard something. I wonder how cold it will get tonight, as I cover myself with fallen leaves...

THE END