Hot weather lovers dread the arrival of mornings decorated with ice-covered bird baths and frosted vehicle windows that require scraping before drivers head off to work or school.
In sharp contrast, I love this time of year.
Watching migratory birds vee their way south, hearing cranes and geese sing autumn songs, watching golden leaves flutter in shiver-inducing breezes, wearing fleece-topped layers of clothing, and making soup several times a week turns each day into a personal Great Plains nirvana.
In response to that first frosty morning, I dug through our freezer to guarantee I have adequate supplies of tomatoes, chopped onions, peppers, celery, and shredded cabbage on hand. These I’ll add to meat broths and stews to warm us from inside out. Continuing this mission, I baked, pureed, bagged, and froze garden pumpkins for soups, puddings, breads, and pies. I checked flour and yeast supplies to be sure I can slap together hot bread or cinnamon rolls. A corn meal stash assures we’ll enjoy pans of steaming cornbread or johnny cakes we can drizzle with local honey to dance on taste buds.
As I inventoried seasonal supplies, I glanced out the kitchen window and spied a larger-than-typical bird navigating the edge of our now dormant garden, where we experimentally left plants in place. We hoped providing extra shelter encourages more winter birds to visit our heated water bowl. It does. I identified a female Cooper’s hawk fighting her way through drying zinnias, marigolds, and pepper plants to snag her prey. It didn’t take long to recognize familiar markings. Raptors eat too, and over the years, I’ve learned feeding birds means you feed all birds.
During a recent visit, this frequent guest left evidence she satisfied her hunger. We returned from church to find collared dove feathers blanketing the base of our ash tree where she devoured dinner in sight of our hens.
Speaking of chickens, she appeared on the branch of a nearby pine the day we moved four pullets into their netted enclosure. The hawk lurked long enough to provide a pitiful cell phone photo. Bottomline, she’s no stranger to this yard, which is why we covered the hen pen. As a bird lover, I admire her, though I prefer she eat someone else’s feathered friends. I’ve told her, cardinals, should they show up, aren’t a menu option.
Anyway, back to soups. Seeing that hawk scrabbling after a fresh meal in my now sere garden, I wondered if autumn weather invigorates wild birds the way it heightens my senses.
Perhaps diving after a dodging sparrow or collared dove sparks raptor neurons the same way steam rising above coffee or walking through crunchy leaves does mine. Nothing starts a morning better than slipping into the grey-lavender dawn to creep across rime-covered grass to snap a photo of the rising sun.
I can’t read bird minds, but I like to imagine this taloned neighbor enjoys favorite foods this time of year. My spouse ends such reveries in a pointedly matter-of-fact voice, reminding me, “Birds just want to eat regularly.”
Regardless, when I blow on a spoonful of hot soup, I’ll wish her the best as long as she leaves red birds alone.
Karen Madorin is a retired teacher, writer, photographer, outdoors lover, and sixth-generation Kansan.