It's been snowing here, on and off over the last two days. Well, sleeting. Heavy rain, with lumps in. Mindful of the poor starving birds in the garden, I thought I'd crumble up the last remaining bit of the loaf I made on Sunday. It was a wholemeal granary one, with loads of seeds in it, so I thought it might do the birds some good.
We feed them with "real" birdfood too. Mr WithaY has a whole system of nut feeders, seed feeders, fat ball* feeders and a birdbath, which he keeps a close eye on, replenishing as required. We get all manner of small birds in the garden: finches, tits, song thrushes, blackbirds, robins, and sometimes a spotted woodpecker, which is lovely to watch. Oh, and a pair of ducks the other day which seemed to be looking for a nice spot to build a nest.
However, yesterday I thought that the birds could have some tasty homemade bread as well as the regular free-for-all buffet we normally provide for them.
I carefully crumbled up the bread, which was still fresh - before I get hate mail accusing me of palming off rock-hard crusts onto the poor defenceless birdies. None of that nasty stale shite for our birds. Oh no.
I made a neat little heap of crumbs, lots of nice sunflower seeds distributed throughout, scooped them up into my hand and opened the back door to toss them artfully onto the lawn where I'd be able to watch the birds enjoying them.
In future, I will check which way the wind is blowing before I toss a large handful of small breadcrumbs out of the door. Top tip there.
I spent about 20 minutes picking seeds off my clothes and out of my hair, and the birds got bugger-all**.
* I know it's juvenile, but I can't help it. I snigger every time I see the display of Fat Balls in the supermarket. And when we spotted the Fat Peckers I had to be helped away.
**Unless they were watching, and enjoyed a good laugh watching me shouting "Oh bollocks!" and brushing myself off vigorously.