Birds of a feather
It was bound to happen sooner or later; the writing was on the wall. The advent of affordable electronics coupled with insatiable curiosity seekers came together in the form of yet one more must have product to hit the market, especially for ornithologists. Behold the picture taking and audio communications capability of first-generation digital bird feeders.
My first response was not exactly filled with overdue anticipation. Do we really need to encumber society with one more AI driven app in a sea of apps and over-the-hill hype? I ignored it as long as I could, then grudgingly accepted the fact that I would be on camera most anytime I walked past a particular segment of the flower garden. Some days it just does not set well to have my picture taken, regardless of whether it is in a studio or on a mounting pole just off the corner of the house.
Matters progressed from bad to worse when the feeder itself spoke, “Thank you for filling the bird feeder!” Well, that was kind of cheesy, I thought, until I recognized the voice as belonging to my spouse. She had accessed the app from her phone and sent an audio feed directly to speakers on the feeder housing. I finally waved the white flag and gave in. For the first few days, post installation, the seed pan and reservoir on the feeder remained untouched. Neither were there any notifications of activity, avian or otherwise. I thought about hoisting the cat high enough to be seen in the feeder camera but decided that was probably taking it bit far.
When the dam broke, it did it in a big way. It took the courage of one magenta house finch to open the gate. For a few days, it thought it had won the dream vacation of a lifetime. He was the only bird that we observed at the feeder. Like juicy gossip at a church bazar, however, the feeder soon became irresistible to others. It remains unclear as to whether the finches were there for food, attention, companionship, or merely a little affirmation. Perhaps they also, were watching, fascinated by humans at the feeder watching birds, watching humans, watching birds ... all in wireless high definition.
All misgivings and wry comments soon evaporated as the first few live action clips were recorded and images sent. The pictures were amazingly clear, providing a unique view of our daily world in moments I would have otherwise missed.
From Luke 12:32, “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” Could it be that simple? Can we stand firm when courage is called for though we remain timid and flighty? The house finches, once enlightened, knew that feed would reappear. Their return each time represented a learning gradient for them and for others accompanying them. Life at the feeder can be tough from time-to-time, but it is made easier when knowledge is shared.
At first blush, a little flock doesn’t sound too inspiring, but imagine the examples it might serve up for the rest of us. Now if only we can keep the house finch paparazzi at bay.
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