To the editor:

A faithful reader waylaid me the other day to describe some strange behavior on the part of “a little bird that had some yellow on it.” The bird was working on completely fraying a string which was holding a hummingbird feeder close to the kitchen window.

It worked and worked for almost two hours until the feeder fell to the ground (it didn’t break). I said I was pretty sure it was a goldfinch as this is the time of year they breed and it was getting nesting material. Some call them wild canaries, but my father called them “thistle birds” as they wait until thistles bloom to breed. Then they use thistle fluff to make their nests and the seeds to feed their nestlings.

They feed by regurgitating, as do hummingbirds, penguins and pigeons and probably some others which I don’t know about. I haven’t seen any thistles but I do feed niger seed which seems to answer their need for small seeds (and which are no longer called thistle seed). Lacking any fluff, I wasn’t surprised to find an Audubon ball containing nesting material completely empty this morning.

So, as expected, there are no longer bird songs in the morning except for the busy, busy little goldfinches. For any of you who feed birds – even though you don’t plan to be a bona fide “birdwatcher,”, do get the little Peterson First Guide to Birds of North America. It costs around $7 and Amazon has it – and you can probably get a used copy. It really will add to your pleasure. Guaranteed!

If you are feeding hummingbirds you may have noticed how quickly they empty and if you see white bird droppings on the feeder you know somebody else has been there too.

I haven’t caught the culprits emptying mine but a friend sent me photos of a downy woodpecker on hers.

I wish you could see the “back 40.” Truly a wildflower garden – mounded top golden rod, which strangely enough is sweet scented, masses of Joe Pye, and three other plants with purple flowers, yellow tansy and at least four whites and, in the very back, the shock of bright pink mallows against tall the dark green.

My next letter will be dated September. Granted, still summer, but foreboding.

Sidney Tynan

Little Compton