I’ve been adopted by yardbirds. A rooster and hen showed up in my flower bed last week. I’m 99.9% sure they are from across the highway, but I have a healthy fear of going on that property.

“Enter and you will be shot!” or some such threat is posted on the front gate. I’m not curious or good enough to risk a bullet wound just to let them know their yardbirds are in my yard.

I call them Popeye and Olive. Popeye, because he’s gritty, brave, and loyal. He sticks by Olive even when she frantically flees. Olive, because she is a frantic, damsel-in-distress type, constantly fussing and clucking.

That first day, I shooed them out of my flowerbed. After inspecting the damage and noting the stiffness of the soil, I let them scratch away when they returned.

“They’ll keep coming back if you feed them.”

The advice was meant to discourage me from throwing extra seed out, perhaps even to take my birdfeeders in for a bit.

I refilled the birdfeeders and spilled a little extra here and there. I couldn’t help myself. There’s something delightful about being visited by creatures.

It’s hard to say who follows and who leads in this marriage. Popeye follows Olive in retreat when they notice me. But “Coast clear!” and Olive follows Popeye back to the spilled seed and worm beds.

They’re Back!

I left the farm for four days, assuming my fling with the yardbirds was over. But when I returned yesterday with my arms full of groceries, I heard them.

How did they get in my backyard?

Then I remembered Puerto Rico and the chickens roosting in the trees.

Before I bothered emptying my car, I threw birdseed toward them. Olive fled to the fence. Popeye followed but paused halfway. I threw some more. He clucked her way (he’s loyal, like the cartoon Popeye) and threw his right leg over his left to head toward the seed.

They’re not my yardbirds. I researched etiquette for what to do when a stray hen and rooster show up on your property, but that took me down rabbit holes of useless information. I did learn that, in Louisiana, if a stray dog shows up and no one comes to claim it, it’s legally yours after three days.

When I have a safe opportunity, I’ll let my scary neighbors know their birds visit me on occasion. I’m not sure if it’s Olive or Popeye who leads the way, but I think they go home at night. I hope when they cross, they go under the water hollow bridge and not over the highway. Those gravel trucks don’t slow down for anything.

Popeye and Olive weren’t here when I woke this morning. In fact, they didn’t show up until I sat down to write about them today. Coincidence? I’m not signing up to adopt them after three days, but I don’t hate it when they visit.

So, while I can, I’ll toss out a little seed and take a little delight to my heart as the yardbirds scratch and cluck around my yard.

©Pennie Nichols. All Rights Reserved. 2024