Belly Up to the Bar

Belly up, belly up to the bar boys
Let your money be seen
Only drink by day or night
Or somewheres in between

 

The Unsinkable Molly Brown

 

Don't ask me why.  My mind just wanders into strange places while I'm looking at mundane sights.  Lately this song streams through my head as I watch the finches at the bird feeder.  The occasional female finch manages to light and grab a bite.  Titmice and chickadees flit in and out.  But usually what I see are male gold finches and house finches camped around the feeder, while several of their brethren wait for a free seat.  Frankly, they are eating us out of house and home. 

 

Perhaps it's the long, cold spring, or maybe the word of our year-round feeder has just spread through the avian masses.  Whatever the reason, I'm buying 20 pounds of feed a week.  So there's the cash outlay - and then there are the bar fights.  Our own little birdie entertainment system.  Everything that's worthwhile comes at a cost.