Roberts: Favorite bird tales from past

I promised last week to tell you my bird story about the line-dancing house finch.

When I moved into my present house, I erected a T-bar in the middle of my bird-feeding area and hung four feeders. Mama birds often bring their babies there to feed and wean them. It's a perfect place to teach them to forage.

A mama house finch brought her three babies there and spent the day feeding them. The next morning she was trying to get them to forage on their own. A couple of them could see where she was going to get their goodies, so they started going on their own.

One was like a kid that makes a career out of college while his parents pray he will graduate and go to work. Mama finch simply could not get the youngster off the cross bar. She would get food in her mouth and slowly walk sideways to the end of the bar, then drop down to the ground hoping the baby would come down and join her for a meal. She'd go from one end of the crossbar to the other, but the slow learner simply would not drop down to the ground. It wanted direct delivery.

Finally Mama just flew off while junior danced from one end of the crossbar to the other. Mama stayed gone for at least 10 minutes while her little slow one continued line dancing. The little rascal had the rhythm and moves, but mothers always win these tests of will. Just before dark, the little squirt finally cracked his own seed.

My mother almost made me commit birdicide one time. A blue jay was dominating the part of her feeding area where she placed old cornbread. I told her I would trap him and take him a long way down the road, but I secretly intended to kill him. In a couple of hours I caught him. I grabbed him by the legs and held him in front of my face. I will never forget how he cocked his head when he looked me in the eye. He was completely fearless and defiant. I admired his attitude so much I just turned him loose. I confessed to mother that I chickened out on killing him. The rest of her life she kidded me about the way that blue jay stared me down.

Dad and I loved mother so much that she only needed to mention something she wanted and we'd turn double back flips to get it for her. One day, she said she wanted some quail. My friend Bob Johnson commercially raised quail, so Dad built her a big coop open on the bottom, and I bought her a dozen quail. Knowing her feelings about freedom, I knew in time she would turn them loose. Sure enough, that day came.

I went out and propped up the coop with a brick, and they walked like little soldiers down a long path toward some dense honeysuckle vines and disappeared. I thought that was the end of our quail project, but at sundown the whole group came marching back and went back in the coop. I thought they just wanted one more free meal but they left in the morning and came home in early evening for several weeks. Then one day they didn't return.

Mother missed them so much that I said, "I don't like seeing you worried about them. I wish I hadn't bought them for you."

She said, "I will get over losing them, Son, but I will never forget how much fun they were. Please do not spoil such a beautiful experience with regret. While I had them, as soon as I awoke I was like a little child at Christmas. I could hardly wait to get up and watch them. Look at it this way: You gave me twelve new things to love."

Mother always did have the sweetest way to make me be quiet.

E-mail Dalton Robets at DownhomeP@aol.com