Through an unusually hot and deplorable November amid drought conditions, the activity of the birds at the backyard feeders has provided respite. Trees and plants seem confused and bees, wasps, flies, and mosquitoes are taking advantage of the extended warmth, but butterflies have recently been spotted in the lantana that still bloomed in the raised bed until this week. Every time Lulu, the dog, goes out, a mosquito comes in.

The bird population seems to have thinned out but they still frequent the feeders. Cardinal sightings are more likely in early morning and dusk and the mourning doves still come in groups but they don’t hang out on the fence quite as much. I always leave the hummingbird feeders out longer than necessary; I always think there may be a stray after the rest have left. In fact, the last hummingbird we saw this year was quite late and seemed more frantic than usual to get fed and get gone around the time a hurricane was churning down in the Gulf.

A murder of crows converge on occasion. Lulu loves to dash out the door to chase them away. On first chase, the crows usually just fly up into a nearby pine to wait her out. If we go back out and I clap my hands and she barks, black crows can be seen scattering off in all directions, caw-fussing as they go. Once, I banged some pot lids and Lulu joined in with her happy dance, hopping up and down on her front legs. Neighbors were pleased with the commotion, no doubt.

A frost is forecast for sometime next week. Maybe some rain. I dread cold weather, but the earth sorely needs it. The plants will save up some energy, the leaves that haven’t decided yet will turn. I have tried to let the last grass mowing wait for the leaves to fall but it’s past time to mow the grass and the leaves can just take their time. The bugs will go away. The birds that stay will stay. The birds that go away will go.

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I didn’t realize it until recently, but I have found some peace in watching birds as long as I can remember. Even when they are acting up, they bring me peace. The grace and freedom they seem to represent may be part of the attraction. My grandparents had glass bird figurines on the mantel, in the china cabinet, and around the house, one of which lingers on my mother’s mantel. I have been looking at those cardinals all my life.  Mother also has a cabinet full of hummingbird-related items – plates, figurines, ornaments. My one and only piece of Howard Finster art is a white crane sculpture covered with his scribbled preaching. “My entire life is a sacrifice for you,” he writes.

Margaret Renkl’s book, The Comfort of Crows: A Backyard Year, is a beautiful book of essays published last year. Renkl knows how to watch and appreciate birds and savor the nature all around us if we just pay attention. A big edition of Audubon’s The Birds of America sits on the coffee table in my living room. I visit it often when I am at home. In admiration for Mr. Audubon’s work, I contribute to the Audubon Society. I support the society’s mission, but I’m not really interested in becoming a “birder.” I can identify the birds that I need to identify by their obvious characteristics, but I don’t identify the ubiquitous small greyish birds that are delightful and plentiful and look too much alike to my untrained eye. I misidentified a nesting bird in this space a year or two ago and got my hands slapped by a reader. So I appreciate them, but I keep their (perhaps mistaken) identity to myself. An organized bird-watching expedition sounds as deadly dull to me as the wine aficionado who can’t enjoy the glass without extemporizing ad nauseum on its qualities (or lack of). It’s kind of like a round of golf; I’m bored with the game but I enjoy the walk in nature.

Rarely am I aware when a bird has died. They come and go and I like to assume that the returnees are the same birds I watched last year and years before. I guess that’s the reason I think Alison Krauss and Gillian Welch’s version of the old hymn “I’ll Fly Away” would be a good selection for my funeral, if I have one.

‘tis the season for pensive posts, I guess. This is what’s on my mind this morning. So savor your birds. Enjoy their songs. Feed them and protect them to the extent possible. Make it a good fall. Despite …