The first to the feeders each morning are the Mourning Doves.
They come down from their fir tree branches where they try to stay warm all night, it is bitterly cold here now, and clean up all that has fallen from the feeders on to the ground. They don't feed from the feeder itself. That is why I fill one of the bird baths with seed for them as they happily jump in and feast. I have a heater with water in the other. It all works tickety-boo. (as my mother would have said. ;-)
These two are waiting for the grandittles to visit.
&
Annie waits for my attention.
She has the daintiest feet.
It's been a few years now but this was a favorite photo of some of the men in my life. It was taken on a cold winter's day at a maple sugar shack after a breakfast of pancakes and, of course, real maple syrup and a long hike around the property.
The retired-guy, sil Mike and son John. (Bradley's daddy)
That's little Bradley in the sled.
It seems all men can nap anywhere after a satisfying meal.If it is winter where you are, hope you are staying cozy warm. If not...be cool.
hugs, Deb