Life really is for the birds

'Everyone likes birds. What wild creature is more accessible to our eyes and ears, as close to us and everyone in the world, as universal as a bird?' 

— Sir David Attenborough

AUBURN, Maine — I have been watching an air show in my front yard from the comfort of my parlor couch for the past five years.

The year-round show goes on outside my picture window.

I watch organic gliders fall from the ski and come in for a smooth landing at my bird feeder. I also hung a tin grate of suet for birds that enjoy gourmet food. There is a liquid feeder on hand for diminutive hummingbirds that come and go like a mild breeze.

My front yard could use an air traffic controller from Logan Airport to keep these hungry buzzards from bouncing off my picture window.

My yard is the perfect habitat for these winged creatures. The front section of the property is surrounded by thick hedges, which provides privacy for us and cover for the birds that hide inside the thicket from cats and other predators.

You know birds are on their way when they line up on the top of hedges and act as lookouts for their feathered friends heading for the feeder.

We have all types including: nuthatches, robins, cardinals, blue jays, a variety of woodpeckers, catbirds and a pair of mockingbirds that are the neighborhood bullies. Mockingbirds sing their hearts out for all of us, but they are aggressive and a bossy pair. They chase away other birds. I have seen them dive bomb the squirrel as it scaled the feeding pole to go after the suet.

Mockingbirds think they own my hard, and you know what, they really do.

They are nasty to their fellow vertebrates but what a sweet tune they carry when they sing for all of us.

The other day, a large woodpecker the size of crow touched down in my cherry tree and began hammering away at the branch. It is called pileated woodpecker. My wife has become an amateur ornithologist and looks up the names of each visiting bird. 

A bird feeder is great for live entertainment. We have this fat SOB of a squirrel that goes after the suet. We knock on the window to scare it off, but it gives us an annoying look and goes right on stuffing its fat face with suet.

I retaliated. Suet costs money and the good birds of Androscoggin County deserve a descent meal.

Sure, squirrels are handsome rats, but to hell with the rodents, I say — especially since I am footing the bill for the pillaging for my bird seed.

I armed myself with olive oil at first, but that became an expensive weapon of choice. I switched to cooking oil and greased the pole with the slick, black stuff.

I waited for the squirrel to strike. He slipped into the yard and bounced on over to the pole. He made his ascent, and every time it tried climbing to the top, the son of bitch slid back down.

I was rolling on the ground with glee at the level of frustration in its face. The disgusted rat gave up after 30 minutes to the laughter of all of us.

The birds were mighty pleased to see the fury suet robber call it quits.

It really is amazing that a bag of bird seed and hunk of suet can draw some of nature’s finest entertainers from around the Northeast.

Welcome to the show that never ends.

Woodstock

Cut-and-dried wood awaits to be stacked

AUBURN, Maine — For those of you who swing a maul, wield an axe or mastered the use of a dangerous gas-powered chainsaw for a living, I have nothing but respect for all woodsmen, arborists, landscapers and the average Joe who heats his home in the winter with wood.

Making another delivery

I also depend on wood to keep warm during Maine's ferocious winters. Heating your home with wood is hard work and right up there with digging ditches, but the last thing I want to do is hand over more money to greedy gas and oil companies, which delight in robbing its customers.

Making use of the sawdust

I understand there are risks when it comes to heating with wood, and there is the feeling of guilt to being a contributor to air pollution.

Wait, there's more!

But for many of us, fossil fuels are too expensive to use on a regular basis. My thermostat remained at a balmy 62 degrees when the wood ran out last winter. We kept our bedroom at 58 degrees and simply added more blankets as our home was transformed into an igloo after another fierce winter storm. We take six-minute showers, wash our clothes and rinse our dishes in cold water. We live like owls in the dark and turn off every light off when no one is in a room. We recycle everything, including the leaves in my backyard in the fall.

The dread of listening to our furnace bellowing in the basement as it burns oil and a hole in our wallets has forced us to lower our consumption of costly oil and rely more on our warm and fuzzy wood stove.

Last week, my next-door neighbor, Don, told me he was taking down two ash trees in his yard and generously offered me the wood free of charge. Don is one of the most easy-going souls on the planet and is a master at do-it-yourself projects. He's got talent and possesses the common sense of Thomas Paine, and I am damn lucky he lives across the street.

For the last two weeks, I lugged nearly 4,000 pounds of wood from his backyard to mine thanks to Don's heavy-duty yard cart with the big spoked wheels. This task was not for the weak at heart, someone with a bad back or an aversion to manual labor. To sweeten the deal, Don also offered me a two-year-old cord of cut-and-split wood to make room for his new storage area.

I was sold on on his offer, but I also knew this was a project that would demand a strong back. And when Dan, another outstanding neighbor, offered to lend a helping hand with the heavy stuff on a smoldering summer day, I knew I was lucky to live next to such fine men.

Back and forth I went as I delivered 200-pounds of wood in each cart. Days later, I was still trying to straighten out my 6-foot-3 frame as my back muscles became rigid and sore.

Two weeks later and my driveway is littered with ash and elm, which now has to be cut and split. I mulled buying a chainsaw, which I have never used in my life despite being an avid gardener and landscaper. But Bruce, another friend, volunteered his wood-eating chainsaw. We agreed that he would cut up the big stuff and I would handle the small fry with my trusty bow saw, which runs on human sweat. I am also using Bruce's maul until I purchase one.

Watching Bruce use his chainsaw and seeing how quickly he cut threw each large trunk was like watching a surgeon make incisions with a sharp knife. I knew I was in the presence of greatness as his chainsaw chewed up the large pieces without incident. I had a hard time keeping up as I heaved the large hunks of wood out of his way as Bruce buzzed along with his reliable and loud saw.

Now I am left with the small stuff. I am building a reliable sawhorse. Dan showed me how he constructed his sawhorse, and I thought it was a great design and sturdy enough for me to dice up the rest of the wood.

I also received some sage advice from Randy, who cut wood as young boy to help heat a house us filled with eight siblings. He shared with me his tips on splitting wood and how to handle a chainsaw. It was all good advice from a good friend.

For the next month, I will be cutting, splitting and stocking wood to keep Old Man Winter at bay and the oil companies out of my pocketbook.


I am now in the swing of things as I learn the fine art of splitting wood, and it really is an art. I am a big man with a strong back, but there is a technique to cracking open stubborn wood. Brawn and might helps when you bring the 10-pound maul down on a log, but it is always about technique, and there is nothing like watching the maul pass through a log on your first swing.

But was all this back-breaking work and sweat during the hot summer worth it?

Talk to me in January when winter has its icy paws all over Maine.