It's about birds again

Just now I was standing at the kitchen sink, cleaning celery. The water was running. Suddenly a little goldfinch flew to the window and perched on the sill. I told him it was very good to see him and if he would go around to the front of the house, he'd find thistles in a feeder.

He ignored that.

I told him as much as I would like to let him in, I couldn't. He seemed not to believe me. This was where he wanted to be, apparently, and he wasn't about to leave. That was fine with me.

Birds are always looking around--it's for their safety--I think they're never still unless they're asleep. And he, my little goldfinch, did this looking, checking. But he stayed on my window sill. Was it the sound of the water? Did he like my orange sweater?

I wondered how long this visit could last, knowing it wouldn't be long. Still he stayed.

He was looking right at me when he pecked at the window. Knocking to come him. He stretched out his neck and gave a good long look into my kitchen. Then he flew off.

I am not obsessed with birds. But this kind of thing does not happen often, and it put a little cheer in my heart.

I could write about the starlings in my back yard, but I won't. After all, they eat bugs.