That's Life: Living With WildlifeBy Phyllis McGuire
Special to iBerkshires
06:17PM / Tuesday, August 16, 2011
My next-door neighbor in the condominium where I live hangs a bird feeder on her patio. I like seeing the birds gather to eat, but I scowl when I clean up the droppings they leave.
I recognize the sparrows, the red-breasted robins and the blue jays that partake of breakfast, lunch or dinner at the feeder. But I don't know the species or number of our beautiful winged friends that fly to the feeder, including the yellow birds that remind me of canaries and the birds with muted orange feathers.
I wish my son, Christopher, were here to identify those birds. When he was a schoolboy, Christopher developed an interest in just about everything, for instance, the stock market, the political scene, coins, stamps and birds. I asked his fourth-grade teacher if I should encourage Christopher to concentrate on a couple of things rather than so many.
"He's like a sponge," the teacher said, "Leave him alone.
Here and now, besides birds, a bushy-tailed squirrel has been a regular visitor since winter. I felt sorry for it as it dug in the snow, unsuccessfully searching for nuts it had stored in earlier months when the Earth was blanketed with grass. I remember thinking, "Poor clueless squirrel. It would take a plow to get to those nuts when the Berkshires were buried in snow."
 Once the squirrel discovered the bird feeder, it would scamper up the posts on the patio and jump onto this new source of food. I don't know for sure if it was able to get seed out of the feeder, but it stayed up there long enough to enjoy a banquet.
The Mama Birds that build nests in a tree I am able to see from my living-room window provide food for their offspring. Sometimes the Mamas need to be patient, dangling the worm a while before the baby bird opens its mouth to receive it — sort of like a child putting up its nose at something new in its diet.
It tugs at my heart when the Mama sends her babies into the world to try their wings for the first time. Thankfully, I have never seen a baby bird fail to take flight.
Sometimes the squirrels and chipmunks who wander onto my patio startle me as I relax on the outdoor chaise lounge, but I am not truly afraid of them. I would undoubtedly freeze with fear, however, if I ever encountered a bear. Bears have been foraging in the condo dumpster, and the president of the condo association warned unit owners to be cautious when depositing rubbish.
 Since receiving that message through an email, I am what you might call all eyes when I approach the dumpster. I look from side to side as well as behind me, and as soon as I toss the rubbish in the dumpster, I take off as if I were a bandit running from the law.
I was shocked the first time I saw deer prancing across the lawn as I stood at the sink in my kitchen. Right or wrong, I thought it was a mother and father with two does in tow. I was new to the Berkshires then, and had never seen deer roaming in New York City, where I was raised.
Then the only animals I saw were in the zoo, and the park was the only place grass grew. Fortunately, we lived near a park and my best friend, Harriet, and I liked to ride the swings. We were not alone in that desire to soar above the ground, our feet reaching for the sky: The swings were usually occupied when we walked to the park after school.
 One afternoon, we were so tired of being disappointed, we decided to go to the park before school the next morning. So we met at 7 o'clock, sleepy-eyed but smiling. At the playground, it was wonderful to have the swings, the slide, and the see-saw to ourselves.
We did not make it a practice, however, to rise so early to go to the park. After all, it was bad enough that we had to report to school at 8 a.m. But, I still remember that the grass and trees looked as if they had just been bathed, and how quiet it was at 7 a.m. — even in the city.
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