A friend and I were riding the beautiful backroads of our special and unique part of the world when we flushed a roadside crew of goldfinches. The little flitterers of sparkling gold fled us, startled but fearless, knowing our big selves would not and could not harm them.

Day before last I was on my front porch blabbing on my phone when a ruby throated hummingbird buddy flew right up to me and informed me in his unique buzzy lingo that he was tired and hungry after days of flying up from the Yucatan Peninsula and, if I wanted his company this summer, I’d better get my keister inside and get him his favorite sweet drink – one cup sugar dissolved in four cups water.

I hung up on my phone friend because my hummy friend took precedence. In about 15 minutes I put out his favorite feeder and told him to go find his spouse and start building their tiny architectural masterpiece of a nest for the tiny eggs that would soon appear.

Back in the winter, a pair of bald eagles spent a couple of days inspecting the Cane Creek for its suitability as a place for raising a chick or two. We didn’t make the cut this year, but we got a close look. Maybe next year.

The great blue herons have certainly found themselves at home in our creek. They are fascinating to watch whether in flight or standing in water on their stalky legs. I sure wish they would let a few of the minnows grow big enough so I could go fishing like we did when I a kid.

I carefully cleaned my string of gourds back in the winter. My martins must have liked what I did because I now have four nesting pairs. As attractive in flight as they are when perched on the wire running from my porch to a pole across the driveway, their chattering brings joy to my heart many times a day. Plus, they eat mosquitoes like I eat popcorn.

A pair of English sparrows has claimed one of the martin gourds which should irritate me, but sparrows have their own little brown charm. I say live and let live.

I think we must be the capital of the buzzard universe. They ain’t pretty and their reputation is in the toilet, but think how smelly our world would be without them. You need to have a strong stomach if you want to watch them feed. Their graceful way of floating on air currents as they circle the sky is almost hypnotic until I remember they are likely checking to see if I’m dead enough for a feast.

I have no credentials as a birdwatcher but I love to watch birds. Sometimes I wish I had studied birds in grad school instead of sheep digestive systems. I also wish I could sing like cousin Vince Gill and play baseball like “Shotime” Shohei Ohtani, but it ain’t gonna happen. I’ll settle for sitting in my rocking chair on the front porch and enjoying the airborne ballet of the birds of Poorgrab, Tennessee.

(BTW: If I failed to mention your favorite bird, write a letter to the editor. If it happens to be mockingbirds, then bless your heart!)

— Gill, an Elk Valley Times columnist, is also an author. His latest book Solomon can be found on Amazon and other online book websites, as well as in stores in Fayetteville and Petersburg.