Morning in the Burbs

Rain or shine, goldfinches light up my day with their bubbly chatter. Unless they perceive a threat then they turn stone quiet. Early this morning the threat was a fat black bear hunched over the torn-down suet feeder. I led the cat to the window to witness, but apparently her neurons couldn’t process bear. She only wanted to sniff my buttered bagel and be brushed. I’m writing this not because I have anything deep to say, but come on—a bear on my front lawn! Also, the truth is, for a moment in those tricky morning shadows, I thought the bear was my neighbor, who's a survivalist of some sort and rather hairy. Grizzly Adams, we call him, though not to his face. On weekends he disappears into the mountains of New Hampshire and eats only things he kills or finds dead, or else beef jerky. The goldfinches fall silent fast when he’s out and about in the neighborhood. They hole up in my forsythia. Perfect camouflage. Once I asked him why he scares the birds and he said, What birds? I wouldn’t want to survive without birdsong. I even love the sorrowful coos of mourning doves at 6:00 AM. In no time, the bear devoured the glob of grease and seeds and waddled off through the neighbor’s yard, leaving behind a pile of scat. By then the cat had licked my bagel clean, but that’s the way it goes sometimes. I knew shortly the forsythia would rustle and, one by one, bright goldfinches would rise.

This piece was featured in Volume 3, Issue 3, “Might Micros”. Click here to explore other pieces from this issue.