The Birds Are Working The Church Lawn

It’s 18 degrees out and a flock of birds are pecking away at the church lawn just around the corner from us, wearing nothing more than the feathers Mother Nature gave them. I don’t know what they’ve found, but you often see that: lots of birds, a lawn, a meal fit for a feathered biped.

What would be out in this temperature? Certainly not some sunbathing morsel and most likely not grubs. I don’t think they hang out on lawns, churchly or otherwise. Seeds that were blown into the snow and just now available after our forty and fifty degree melting weather?

The birds have disappeared now, possibly into the underbrush or people’s hedges, picking their beaks and burping, having an after-dinner cigar and some cognac. Or maybe they have found another lawn worth scavenging, methodically working. Like a balanced diet, going from the Presby parish to the Methodist, then the RC’s, a side of Lutheran and topping it off with the Fundies up Main Street.

Wherever it may be, whatever the temps are, you never hear their mothers saying, “For heaven’s sake, wear a scarf. It’s 18 degrees out there. And put a sweater on under that coat or you’ll catch your death of a cold.”

Doesn’t happen in Bird Land. They just fly out of their trees (I am assuming they are too old to have nests) every morning and head to work at the nearest lawn-office.