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Empty Nest
- Wayne State University Press
- Chapter
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Empty Nest Ellen kept two feeders on the deck—the clumsy wooden one Harry Jr. had made in eighth-grade shop class, many years before, and the newer, red plastic, barn-shaped one she’d bought on sale at Walmart. Three others were spaced in the yard: one in the shape of a gumball machine on a pole near the back fence, and two smaller tubes in the crab apple that, when filled, weighed the branches nearly to the ground. At times it was a challenge to keep the feeders filled. Gray squirrels, scavenging for oiled sunflower seeds, scattered discards in every direction; the jays made noisome pigs of themselves . Still, Ellen didn’t mind. Better to feed than to be fed upon, she always said. She’d take her coffee to the reading chair near the patio door and chart their comings and goings. The birds gave her days purpose, and she marked them accordingly . When Harry Jr. phoned about his promotion, Ellen celebrated by loading the feeders with Premium Songbird Mix. On the anniversary of Harry Sr.’s fatal accident, she poured twenty pounds of corn beneath the cedars in the side yard, where five turkeys had appeared the day before. In Which Brief Stories Are Told 112 ) “Aren’t you becoming a little obsessive,” Harry Jr. said, the next time he called. “For the record, I’m concerned.” Ellen had been telling him about the crows. They had arrived in a scuffle of snow, and the contrast—black against white—was brutal. Even the jays seemed intimidated. “They are more like people than you can imagine,” she said. “It’s an expense you don’t need,” Harry Jr. replied. “You should cut back.” She laughed girlishly at the thought: Maybe woodpecker suet for Valentine’s, hummingbird nectar for her birthday, maybe grape jelly for the orioles . . . “They carry disease,” her son continued, “and they make a mess of the yard.” “How’s Carol?” she asked, to change the subject. “How are the boys?” “They take care of themselves,” Harry Jr. said. “They’ll survive without you.” It was a moment before Ellen realized he was still talking about the birds. And while it may have been true, it was also nothing she didn’t know already. Days after she’d thought they had gone, she’d found the body of one crow near the fence, dark holes where the eyes should have been. ...