By Clay Christensen

My kitchen has a corner sink with two windows above it. That gives me a great view down Malvern Street.

The other morning, I saw some black fluttering going on in a yard about a block down and wondered what was happening.

Could it be the two turkeys that had been strolling about our neighborhood this year? There was a hen and her poult who’d been wandering around all year. I hadn’t seen them for a while.

I grabbed my binoculars off the table (being a bird watcher gives me a ready excuse, if I’m accused of being a busy body/snoop) and focused on the area of the flapping. Turned out it was just some black plastic sheeting that was apparently put up in the yard to divert water runoff.

Then I saw a turkey working the curb along Roselawn Avenue just up the corner from my place. As I watched, it began crossing the street.

And then another turkey appeared coming up Malvern, behind the first one. It hesitatingly went into the street behind the first turkey and then kind of shepherded it across the street. I figured this was the hen and the first bird was her poult.

They stepped rather lively after a car went by behind them, then proceeded to mosey through the yards until they were directly across from my house.

I had put some pecan halves out front on the patio table for the birds or the squirrels, whoever would make use of them. These were remnants from my late wife’s cooking supplies. I’ve got a lot of them: walnuts, pecans, raw peanuts, banana chips and more, all well past their use-by dates. I try to remember to put out a handful on the table from time to time, especially as winter approaches.

I wondered if the turkeys could smell the pecans from across the street. My question was soon answered when I glanced out the window and saw a turkey walking toward the patio table.

There was a squirrel on the table, munching on a pecan half. The turkey was eyeing the squirrel. The squirrel grabbed another pecan and bailed out.

The turkey was upset and chased the squirrel around the table. She couldn’t corner the furry rascal, so she flew up and took up a commanding position in the middle of the table.

The squirrel was ready for combat. It stood on one of the stools by the table, put its front paws on the edge of the table, looked up and glared at the turkey! The turkey made a feint peck toward the squirrel, which easily dodged it.

There were only a few pecan halves left, which the squirrel nabbed one after the other until they were all gone.

In this little skirmish, the squirrel had won, taking every pecan half. And I thought it showed real bravery taking on such a huge adversary.

A farewell

This will be my last Birdman of Lauderdale column. I’m hanging up my binoculars, so to speak. I’ve very much appreciated the editors of the Bugle. They’ve always been encouraging and seemed to have been appreciative of my columns.

I entered my mid-80s this year. I’ve found I have issues with balance while walking and standing, so I’ve started using a cane.

But I haven’t figured out how to use binoculars while holding a cane. So, I don’t get out birding as much as I used to. And I think that cuts down on the idea generation process I need to keep coming up with topics for my column.

I’ve enjoyed writing my Birdman column. It’s been a bucket-list item for me. But I think it’s time to give it a rest and let someone else make use of the space.

I wish you well. Happy birding!

Clay Christensen writes and lives in Lauderdale.