The Coffee Table

Cereal Business

I am a serial cereal eater, seriously! I eat like a bird. Sometimes people say you eat like a bird to indicate that you hardly eat at all (which seems crazy to me because there are apparently small birds that eat the equivalent of their own weight each day) but that’s not what I mean. I eat a normal amount for a human, but I primarily eat bird food. A mixture of nuts, grains, and small bits of fruit. At all times of day. Or night.

I recently bought the expensive bird seed for the Old People Avian Eatery, and it definitely looked like I could eat it. Except that I would have to shell all the sunflower seeds—too much trouble. But otherwise, add a little yogurt and I’d be in heaven.

When I was a teenager, my grandfather told me he wanted to be a bright red cardinal in his next life. (He was Catholic, but he didn’t mean the man in red. He and I were observing birds outside our window at that particular moment.)  After Grandpa died, I always called out to cardinals who fluttered by my window, “Hi Grandpa.” This went on for thirty years or so.  I don’t know the lifespans of small birds, but I suspect Grandpa had moved on before I broke the habit.

My late husband and I were avid back porch bird watchers. We both were especially fond of woodpeckers—his favorite being the pileated woodpecker. We would catch glimpses of the pileated guy in flight between the trees on our property, but he rarely perched in our line of vision. Until the day after Kirk died. Then that big, beautiful woodpecker would sit on the balcony railing and let me observe through the window for several long minutes at a time. I’m not a strong believer in reincarnation—I only reluctantly accept the possibility—but I sure liked to think that bird was Kirk, coming to check in on me.

I am a big fan of daylight saving time. I don’t like to arrive home in the dark at the end of a long day. But the change back to standard time signals a need to get serious about the feeding of wild birds, and I get some satisfaction from that. The cold will be setting in—seeds and berries in short supply out in the woods. I need to ensure the Avian Eatery is well stocked. I want to keep the community birds fat and happy. I want my pileated woodpecker to return.

My husband was a meat eater, and he did most of the cooking in our household. So, I usually ate the meat he cooked. Since he died, I rarely eat any kind of meat at all. I have always purchased unsweetened muesli by the case, and have eaten it morning, noon and night. Kirk used to tell me I eat constantly—even if I don’t eat a lot. I eat muesli with watermelon all summer and with pomegranate all winter. Now, I also eat crates of salad. Bird food and hamster food. Partly to take care of my health. But equally because the head chef is gone, and I don’t want to cook.

Maybe my serial cereal diet will help me to live a long life. Maybe I am just in training for my next life. I’m hoping I’ll take flight, rather than burrow underground. I wonder how long pileated woodpeckers live?