You know you lead a hopelessly boring life when the highlight of your day involves watching a bird regurgitate. Granted, it was a particularly attractive bird--a lovely red-bellied woodpecker that bellied up to the birdfeeder, ate her fill of seed, and then vomited it back up into the waiting mouth of her plump, speckled young one. It's certainly not something we see every day, but if that's the most exciting thing that happens all day long, isn't that a little pathetic?
It's difficult to get excited about a day spent waiting. The Texas kid is on the road and ought to be home this evening, so all day I've been occupying myself with mindless tasks while trying not to look at the clock. The birds were a pleasant distraction from a day of cleaning, reading, cooking, and trying not to think too much about what a great big dangerous world he's wending his way through out there.
I've got meat in the crock-pot and I'm ready to feed the kid as soon as he gets home, but I don't intend to use the woodpecker's method. In some ways birds have it easy--feed the kid for a few weeks and then boot him out of the nest and let him find his own yummy grubs--but do birds ever experience the joy of homecoming? Do they recognize their kin when they've been apart? Do they seek out opportunities to reunite? Do they have a sense of family ties? Or is it just all about the birdseed?
Days like today I'm glad I'm not a bird...but I'm also glad the birds are here to inject a little excitement into a hopelessly boring day. Tomorrow: let's watch grass grow! It's very therapeutic.