Years ago I heard the legendary radio broadcaster Red Barber say that somebody (I've forgotten who) was sitting pretty "in the catbird seat." I didn't know what it meant or even what a catbird was, but I liked the sound of it enough to try the phrase out in conversation, to the bemused mystification of my listeners. Now that it's catbird season in TT, I can finally use the term with some credible reference to reality. Actually, I see now that there can be at least two possible meanings.
As I sit spying out the kitchen window at the catbirds bobbing and weaving through our abundantly lush beautyberry bush, I'm truly in the catbird seat. I settle in for a good show as they feast undisturbed on the purple berries, occasionally flashing me their rusty orange under-tail body feathers (known as coverts). And as they sit perched on a branch comfortably plotting out their next move toward the perfect bunch of berries, they're also in the catbird seat. Either way, the catbird seat means life is pretty good for whoever is in it. Thanks, Red, and sorry it took so long to figure it out.
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Other recent bird delights: six sandhill cranes feeding on insects in a watermelon field, a male hummingbird doing his courtship dance outside my window--flying straight up, nosediving down at full speed in front of his intended mate, pulling up at the last minute and repeat (amazing the things guys will do...), titmice, chickadees, and cardinals sharing bird seed at a feeder, and coming up soon, the winter arrival of our hooded mergansers. Stay tuned! Birds help make this world worth living in.