There has been a lot of romancing outside my window in the past week or so. Rumour has it that the best woodpecker restaurant in the neighbourhood is our suet feeder, so if the boys want to take the girls home with them, wining and dining on our back deck is the first order of business. I just can't keep up with customer demand for the house specialty. This Flicker has had his fill and is waiting while the wife hails a taxi.
The big boys always get first seating. It's hard to spot, but there is a Downy Woodpecker waiting patiently in the bar (a.k.a. a maple tree) for this Pileated Woodpecker to decide what to tip me, thus freeing up a table. (The tip is always the same thing. :))
That's better. At least the woodpeckers have the right balance points to make it work. The Steller's Jay mostly just tries to figure out how to get past the bouncer. It's a losing proposition most days, though, as the big guy at the door knows how rude and noisy Mr. Jay is. It's bad for business.
Sometimes a foreigner stops by, but then chooses to bypass the mainstream fare and the burly dudes with the questionable social pedigrees who frequent the joint. This little Audubon's Warbler has decided to eat elsewhere.
And because no post about birds on this blog would be complete without a visit from the street people, here's a handsome devil. He's trying to be discreet by hiding behind the cherry blossoms, knowing that I will save the evening's leftovers and he'll get a free handout in the back alley when the Beautiful People have called it a night.