z finch perturbed

trembling warm within my fingers

little zebra finch struggles

and then goes still

only showing signs of regaining

life when i set him back

into the newly cleaned cage

if only he could survive on his own

i would set him free to fly

into the vastness of blue

but he was hatched from egg

to cage and knows only the birdseed

i have fed him all his life

i watch as he stand, shaking a moment

then flutters up to high perch

and in a moment scolds

before partaking of seed and fresh water

who?

what would be a Baltimore Oriole

on the East Coast is scattering seed

and husks in my bird feeder

but here in Oregon, it must be

a hungry something else

zebra kiss

zebra finches raised for years

in huge squawking cage

and each day i reach in

with clean water and seed

this morning, one of the boys

who often sings on the plastic branch

near my face as i bend in

with the treats, pecked me softly

in the hair with his orange beak

an acknowledgement of love

if i’ve ever felt one

empty tray

california quail took months

to learn to lift to the elevated seed tray

but now muscle up beside one another

crowding to feed and clear hulls

backwards with their feet

emptying the tray, leaving nothing

for smaller wrens and chickadees

i wait until the quail have fed before

setting out each morning’s seed

first courage

black-capped chickadee

at leisurely breakfast

in the birdseed tray

ignoring the wrought iron bird

that so frightened all the wild

birds when my daughter first

set out the try

it was a lesson in avian learning

for me to watch the first scrub jay

who perched at the far side of the tray

pecking with half his attention

on that dark, unmoving shape

after his first bravery

so many have followed

and are now nonchalant

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fledgling flight

fledgling atop nearby utility pole

having succeeded in first flight

from the osprey nest

with those sprawling wings

he could barely raise at the elbows

now muscular enough to lift them

and they in turn have lifted him

i did not see that thrilling flight

(how i wish i could have)

but know now it was made

i can only wish him well

as he must soon establish

his own life in a world

made awkward if not dangerous

by interfering (wo)man

reap far more

give bird seed daily

reap a harvest

of colorful flutter

and joyful song

treat ‘em with rice

steamed rice in a doggie bag

from the Thai restaurant lunch

covered with bird seed to entice

the picky chickadees

but i needn’t have bothered

my wild birds picked around the seed

to get at the exotic treat

cq no longer reluctant

california quail no longer reluctant

to flutter up to feeding bowl

and large enough to not worry

about competition as she

fills it with her bulk and warns

off by the frantic flutter of her

question mark headpiece

tofu seed

tofu in the bird feeder

a new experience

not quite cherished as yet

but evidently intriguing

especially as nearly all else

is covered by inches of snow

haiku

 haiku

greed personified:

california quail wallow

in the birdseed bowl

california quail ‘hurrah’

two california quail lift heavily to the second story

of plant- and bird-feeder, settling broad girth amid the seed

spilling hulls and seed on nasturtiums, stand and porch floor below

i’ve never heard a california quail ‘hurrah’

but the enthusiastic waggle of question marks above their foreheads

must have conveyed other mothers’ and chubby half-dozen offspring’

gratitude for the quailfall

what food? where?

what food? where?

 yellow grass tinted green

after three nights last week of misted dew

grown inches to create a flexible maze for curious

hungry california quail chicks to scramble through

heads bobbing up, to see; down, to eat

those question mark brow adornments wobbling as the dozen or so

willy-nilly take over my yard and conquer my sense of delight

haikus this odd april

haikus in this odd april

osprey nest abandoned/ pair had nestled over eggs/ driven out by fierce cold

do does remember/ harsh winter or teach their young/ to hunt by instinct

do ducks know numbers/ how to count the trail of duckling/ mourn the one missing

showoff storm

showoff storm

watercolor sky

and seascape

changing in the hail

wind gusts causing gulls

to land like drunken sailors

and ruffling tail and wing

feathers as they huddle

on the beach

sudden torrents of rain

beating, roiling sand

beneath the surface

to muddy gold-brown

churning the water

into foam white and gray-green

purple-blue in the shadows

of black-purple-gray clouds