the return of blackie

Beginning in the spring we have a lot of birds in our yard. My wife likes to keep the bird bath clean for them. The cardinals have their own bath they prefer to use, while the other birds use the community bath. There are robins, sparrows, doves, starlings, cardinals and blackbirds. We bought peanuts for ourselves and threw a few to the birds because it seemed the friendly thing to do.

While other birds didn’t pay much attention, one black bird in particular loved the peanuts. After just a few days it was apparent that the free peanuts got to be a habit for this black bird. He’d come around everyday at the same place for a tasty peanut. Only a short while later we had named him Blackie, our favorite bird.

It would have been nice to have a colorful cardinal, or even a blue jay as a favorite, but the other birds remained aloof. The best we could attract was our new feathered pal, the solo blackbird

That summer a lot of birds came and went through our yard, but only Blackie was a regular that we could identify. The robins had children and hung around teaching them to dig for worms, and the doves walked around in pairs. But, Blackie made a noise to attract our attention. We talked to him and he would fly in for his peanut.

In the fall, most birds migrate south for the winter. Only the illusive cardinals stay year round.

One day The following summer, when my wife was working on the side of the house she heard a black bird squawk. She looked up and said, “Blackie, is that you?” It was. She went around to the other side of the house where we used to feed him and he followed, and took up his usual position at a particular spot on our fence and waited for his peanut.

My wife and I were happy to see the old wanderer and enjoyed the surprise visit for a second year. Through out the summer Blackie was a regular, and became friendlier and calmer with our presence.

The third summer he returned again. Now he would fly to our back porch and I’d sit in a chair and put a peanut on the small table and he’d hop onto it and take his peanut. Now we had a pet.

By the end of that summer he was taking peanuts from my hand, still a wild bird, but happy to play the routine of entertaining us for his peanut.

Most every morning Blackie would be there. We’d look out and see him on the fence, and as soon as we came out with the peanuts he’d fly over and take one.

Many blackbirds were living in a wild an area a mile south of our home. Each morning they’d fly over and head to the farmers corn field where they’d feast for the day, then return in the evening.

The following year the farmers had complained and the city burned the wild area where the birds rousted. No longer did we have flocks of black birds passing over head. Blackie had moved on with his friends.

May rushed by with no sign of him, we wondered if he died, relocated with the others, or went off to make a family. Then in June he returned, and this time he brought a younger bird with him. We called it Blackie Junior. This was the fourth year in a row for Blackie on our fence. The same spot, the same routine of squawking and waiting for his peanut. Unbelievable, four years in a row we had Blackie as a guest. We only saw him a few days that year. His son never a taste for a peanut.

The fifth year there were even fewer birds around. May and June passed without a sign of him. Then at the end of July, when we had all but given up hope, he returned.

It was a quick stop. He must have been living farther away, but he made his appearance, did the squawks and the peanut grabbing routine, then flew back to the fence. I swear he looked back at us before he flew off, and that was it for Blackie’s visits.

We still look for him, or son of Blackie, but now he is only a pleasant memory, yet we still keep our peanuts ready just in case.