We’ve been watching the fall finches for a couple of weeks. I don’t know where they go in mid-summer, but spring and fall brings them to our feeders by the dozens. They jostle each other for position and have no hesitation about knocking each other off the desired perch, or even body-checking in mid-air in order to keep each other from landing. The prescribed penalty box seems to be the top of the feeders where there are no seeds. They are intent, and our dogs wandering in and out of the house don’t appear to faze them much. I wonder if finch feeding is what gave Charles Schultz the idea for bird hockey games played on the frozen rink of the birdbath with Snoopy as the coach. As far as I can tell, the main difference between finch feeding and hockey is the lack of bench clearing fights. That and the lack of sticks, puck, scoring and referees, but those are minor points.
Well, that’s the end of that profound thought. Maybe I’m not getting enough oxygen.