Is to employ my windowsill for the seeds for the chickedees and the peanuts for them, the jays, and the towhees: at least during the major part of the week when the canine monster is around (they-- he and his mistress-- return later this morning, until Sunday morning). As little as I really care about the dog's state of heath, it cannot be good for his digestion that he scarf down peanuts in their shells that I've tossed out on to the deck for the birds (or, perhaps it makes not a jot nor a tittle of difference: dogs are reputed to have sturdy guts, I think). The chickadees seem to have only very little trouble alighting on the sill when I'm here; the others have to work up their courage: the sight earlier of four jays within six feet of the window each moaning about how their peanuts were out of reach was amusing. Eventually, three flew up, one by one, in rapid succession and collected their prizes; the fourth flew off, defeated, to a perch at the edge of the deck. Whereupon I threw it a peanut. His eye lights upon the just and the unjust, the cowards and the brave, alike.
Two Steller's jays. I threw out two peanuts (I know, I know, having just done describing how I'm not doing this any longer: but the dog isn't back yet), the second one after the one bird had already picked up the first peanut. But it was too quick for the second bird, and was over the second peanut while holding the first one in its beak. It changed them up, putting one in and trying to grasp the second, dropping them and putting the other nut in first, then lengthwise, then... after three or four minutes it gave up and flew off with but one peanut. The second bird, which had more or less closely observed all the first's machinations, dropped down from its perch and flew off with what was, after all, the food intended for it.
One of the hummingbirds stopped by again only to discover that I still have nothing to offer it. Am thinking that I must remedy this; the issue is where ought the feeder, once purchased, be hung. If I could be fairly confident that the gutter won't collapse if I hang it on the edge of that, that's what I'd do. When the storms of wind arise I'd need to take it down and bring it in. I wonder what one puts into those-- sugar water, or so I've always heard; must investigate to see if that is true.
Hummingbirds must appreciate the color red, evidently. A gallon of 'hummingbird nectar' costs fifteen dollars. Amazon also 'sells' a 'How To' book for zero cents on Kindle. Prudence suggests that I begin with the third, cost-free option,