The obessive-compulsive birdwatcher

I hung a tube feeder on the rail of my deck a week or so ago, and for the first few days, I didn't see a single bird in its vicinity. Then I went away for a week, and when I came back, the seed level in the feeder had dropped significantly. Seeing a scrubjay nearby, I figured it was he and his pals who had been at the feeder, but in the last couple of days, there have been several different kinds of birds showing up. Every time I see one out there, I grab my binoculars and stare at it, hoping to get some idea of what it might be; a finch? Could be . . . Or a sparrow? Maybe . . . but what kind of sparrow? Leaf through the Sibley's field guide, look fixedly at the drawings, try to match what I'm seeing on the deck with the beautifully drawn illustrations in the book. Hmmmm . . . Decide to record what I see (or think I see), and get a new notebook to write my guesses down. They kept coming, sometimes just one at a time, sometimes two, or three. Spot bird, grab binoculars, focus, stare, get Sibley's, stare some more, make notes, think I might have misidentified, make another note . . .

Birding . . . it's not just for Sundays . . .