The black-faced juncos are somewhat timid and like to roost in the low bushes under the feeder. They jump to the ground to pick a seed and then return to the bush. They really get along well with everyone. The nut-hatches seem happier to be upside-down than upright. One red-headed woodpecker ratchets up and down the tree and the tufted titmice and purple finches rule the tray at the feeder.
The frames of all at the feeder are so very delicate and light. I always imagine them to be same birds that my dad fed for so many winters.
* * *
It is often so difficult to know if we are gentle enough. One of my big fears is that I will hurt someone without intending or realizing it until after I've done so. I am sure I have many times.
Lennie held his closed hand away from George's direction. "It's only a mouse, George. " "A mouse? A live mouse?" "Uh-uh. Jus' a dead mouse, George. I didn' kill it. ' Honest! I found it. I found it dead. " "Give it here!" said George. "Aw, leave me have it, George. " "Give ithere!" Lennie's closed hand slowly obeyed. George took the mouse and threw it across the pool to the other side, among the brush. "What you want of a dead mouse, anyways?" "I could pet it with my thumb while we walked along, " said Lennie
~ From: "Of Mice and Men", John Steinbeck