For the Birds

I bought bird seed and a bird feeder today. 

Oh yes I did.

The main reason I bought said bird seed and feeder today was because of this bird who I in fact did not name Squishy. His name is Harold, which is splendidly appropriate, I think, for a wee sparrow. The name conjures all things slightly bookish, charming, and unobtrusive. Everything most birds are (or would be, if they could read).

This lovely little bird (whom I've yet to take a picture of) has been spending nights on a rafter on our quasi-porch for a few months now, and I've convinced myself that he and I are good friends, that we've bonded over our staring contests, and that he thinks my welcome mat is sexy. (Just kidding. It's not.)

Anyway, as it's been getting colder, I felt I should provide some tasty bird seed for him and his friends to prepare for winter. Because I'm nice like that, and I think tiny sparrows are adorable. A few sparrows looked at it suspiciously, but never perched on the feeder. So I spread some seed on our porch railing to encourage them. I'm sure my upstairs neighbor thinks I'm nuts. Who does this?

And then this happened.

Squirrel!

 I was almost about to walk out and politely inform the squirrel that the birdseed was not meant for him, and that he and his bushy tail should depart the premises, but then I realized that squirrels need food, too.

So I let him have his fill on the condition that he'd encourage the little birdies to come around.

Also, I promise I'm not a six year-old. PROMISE. I just have the disposition of one whenever small animals are involved.