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Robins, hummingbirds and vultures outside my door By Peggy Dover May 29, 2022 12:15 AM A A My frenzied feathered friends at Dover Acre are beating the sun up these days. Like, 4:30 — otherwise known as the middle of the night. They have a lot on their plate and need to get after it as soon as dawn blinks a bleary eye. There’s this robin I’ve named Reveille. But finches are not slouchy in the chirping category and do their best to eclipse his bugling. Ear plugs come in handy. The only feathered boarders who don’t stir until two or three hours later, and then don’t make a peep, are my winsome vulture buddies. Only the sound of their giant wings unfolding and rustling against the treetops reveals their activity. Then they tiptoe out to the end of a branch and spread their wings to the sun to warm them for gliding. I had a request for a vulture update, so I’m here to oblige when I can. My large carrion-scarfing friends have, however, begun fertilizing my driveway, having expanded their territory from the outlying evergreens, to the backyard sycamore. There is an owl who helps by depositing pellets below. My artist friend, Lane, is about to turn 60. I thought to have a few of his friends over for a vulture fly-in and my special carrot cake. We can eat cake and ice cream while viewing the landings from a safe distance on the deck. A birthday to remember. Hummingbirds are busy little wisps of fairy dust. I’m never sure how they make it through the icy winter nights, but the Anna’s variety do. I have two — one in front and one in back, but they drain the two feeders as if they were a flock of hungry gulls. King Edward, the indoor feline, also is an early riser. Does any cat claim a Bohemian lifestyle? Why he insists on having me up when food lies in his bowl, I don’t understand. He just can’t seem to stomach my attempts to get a decent night’s sleep. Oh, he’ll fake-sleep for a bit then start hiking over my stomach. With my now retired Sunday colleague Rob Galvin off probably tending his early girl tomato plants in coveralls, writing an eon-spanning fantasy starring unicorns late into the night, sleeping late (I hope to taunt him into an occasional guest appearance) and leaving a major cat void, I will have to double up on the cat stories. Start practicing your eye rolls now. Tomorrow, Aunt Sophie (my home) is scheduled for an overdue bath. She’ll be prepped for a new frock and new awnings. It’s been far too long since she had a fresh coat. I just hope my neighbors don’t lose their dentures, because she is not going to be gray. Every new house is gray and white or white and gray. I want Aunt Sophie to be a 1900 standout. I am excited. I only hope she may be seen behind all the grass and weeds and shrubbery that have made a play for total encroachment. The rain is great, but it makes things grow wild. Because I don’t use chemicals, I’ve been spending an hour or so each day out there on my kneeling pad yanking out grass and weeds from what used to be beds. It’s therapeutic, especially when I get the entire root of the problem. Tomorrow is primarily Memorial Day, a time set aside for mourning those in the armed forces who gave the ultimate sacrifice in the name of our life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. May our hallowed country find a way to honor their memory by finding an answer for our children to have the opportunity to fulfill the precious commodities for which these men and women died. Tomorrow also marks the celebration of the beginning of another summer. I’ll start with a prayer of thanks for the rain and snow we’ve enjoyed recently and the fact we can gather once more, then end with a plea for safety, common sense and fun to team up throughout the season. Peggy Dover is a freelance writer/author. Reach her at [email protected].