bird feeder | The Direction of Intention

Squirrel Lore [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on April 17, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

My dad had a special relationship with squirrels though I doubt he thought of his squirrel-connection as special. He kept a BB gun at the ready to keep the little varmints from eating the peaches from his tree. He never aimed to hit them. He’d shoot the leaves close by to scare them. Once, when his eyesight was failing, he accidentally hit a squirrel. “Did I hit him?” he asked me, horrified. The squirrel was stung but otherwise uninjured. My dad was wounded to his core. “I didn’t mean to hit him,” he repeated, misty eyed throughout the evening. I am not certain but I think that was the last time he touched his BB gun.

Our yard is alive with squirrels. Dogga chases them. He gives them a quick bark as he skids to a stop while they scurry to the safety of the pine tree. And then he prances, triumphant in his mission of yard patrol. Later, we laugh as he lounges on the deck, uninterested in the yard-antics of the squirrels.

The squirrels have easily cracked the code of every bird-feeder-squirrel-protection-mechanism on the market. They are furry little ninjas stealing birdseed like their human counterparts heist diamonds. After years of gadgets and guards and placements – and serious thoughts about finding my dad’s leaf-ready BB gun – we’re in full surrender. We now scatter birdseed on the potting bench and on the top of Barney-the-piano. We invite the furry masses. The birds and squirrels dine peacefully together. They take turns. They are well fed.

When I refresh the scatter of seed I think of my dad. His squirrel campaign gave him a sense of purpose. Protecting the peach tree from the squirrels was a worthy-and-fun retirement mission. Without their constant assault on the peaches he would have been left with nothing more meaningful than cutting the grass (note: he edged the yard on his hands and knees with handheld clippers. My brother threatened to buy him an edger but he adamantly resisted. In analogy, my brother assumed the role of a squirrel, threatening my dad’s yard aesthetic routine).

I sometimes wonder if the squirrels watch us in utter fascination. We humans need challenges to feel useful. If we don’t have challenges we invent them; we call them hobbies. It’s the reason that “conflict” is the driver of every human story. A yearning meets an obstacle (Robert Olen Butler’s definition of “story”). Yearning needs obstacle like my dad needed squirrels. And now I have a special relationship with the squirrels: I do not try to deter them. I love watching them. I love Dogga’s daily game with them. They give him purpose. I love scattering seed for them. I love that they make me smile and remember the gentle man who was my father.

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read Kerri’s blogpost about SQUIRRELS

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Filed under: Gratitude, KS Friday, Love | Tagged: artistry, bird feeder, dad, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, father, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, love, purpose, relationship, Robert Olen Butller, squirrels, story, studio melange, the melange | Leave a comment »

See The Bounty [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on September 27, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

I doubt that our bird feeder experience is different than most people. The chipmunks and the squirrels get most of the bounty and the birds play clean-up.

In another life, were I to aspire to be an acrobat or gymnast, I’d study the amazing antics of chippies and squirrels. They scale the impossible pole. They leap the impossible leap. And then they fill their cheeks to bursting, kick gobs of seed to the ground, and fling themselves – fully loaded – into space and somehow catch a limb or bit of fence and escape into the great unknown. They are fearless.

The birds alight on the feeder, too, but mostly they find their fortune on the ground.

Over the summer, directly beneath the feeder, corn plants appeared. We let them grow for a while. I confess, the corn made us smile. “We have corn!” we’d giggle at the absurdity even though the origin was obvious. Apparently we are easily amused.

And then the corn plants sprouted across the yard. A stalk grew right next to Breck-the-Aspen-Tree. And then we found a few lively plants pressing through the tall grasses in the front yard. We’d unintentionally set into motion a small-sample-experiment of corn migration as carried by birds and mini-beasts.

Across many cultures, corn has long been a symbol of prosperity and representative of the cycle of life. It’s easy to understand why. The fields are magical places. In our film mythos, baseball teams of yore emerged from the corn, bringing good fortune to the family that built a field on their farm. Giver of dreams. Fulfiller of hope. Ancestors return to the corn.

In addition to the summer of the bunny and the surprise frog-named-Hope, this is the summer of corn-on-the-move. As the leaves begin to turn, as the harvest comes in, we take comfort knowing that we are surrounded by so many symbols of plenty.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CORN

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Filed under: Flawed Wednesday, Gratitude, Metaphor, Possibility, Seeing | Tagged: ancestors, artistry, bird feeder, bounty, chipmunk, corn, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, dreams, field of dreams, harvest, hope, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, life cycle, magical places, plant migration, plenty, prosperity, squirrels, story, studio melange, the melange | 1 Comment »

Expect Surprise [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on September 14, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

Hiding in the cornfield that currently grows beneath our bird feeder is a sweet morning glory. The pop of pale blue drew our attention. “Where did this come from?” I asked. “Maybe a morning glory seed was mixed in with the bird seed.”

Kerri rolled her eyes. “Maybe a bird brought it,” she said.

“A landscaping bird!” I reveled. “The blue accent does wonders for the corn.”

The surprise morning glory reminded me of the frogs that used to appear from nowhere in our little pond. There are very few routes to our pond that don’t include a ride on a bird or other form of critter transport. I can’t imagine the frogs made a dedicated pilgrimage to our pond though that’s not a bad idea for a children’s book. It’s been a few years since we had a surprise-frog-in-residence and we miss them.

Cultivate your surprise. It was among the teachable notions that the younger version of me used to peddle to clients. Cubicle sitting, rote learning, the daily grind…can dull your eyes and lead you to believe that today is just like yesterday. It’s not. Frogs appear in ponds. Pale blue calls from the corn. Insights come. People smile and offer a hand. Old friends appear from nowhere.

In one of the social streams I read that entering the day with a simple shift of language, from “today I have to” to “today I get to”, can change your world. The power of language is the power of perception. Decide what you see. Entering a mystery is much more fun than stepping into a rerun. The same idea bubbles beneath cultivating surprise. Expect each day to be filled with surprise. Look for it and you will find it. A pop of blue in the corn. A frog from nowhere. An opportunity knocking. Where will the next surprise come from?

I couldn’t help myself. This is Eve. 48x48IN, Acrylic on panel. A surprise apple;-)

read Kerri’s blogpost about MORNING GLORY

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Filed under: DR Thursday, Seeing | Tagged: artistry, bird feeder, corn field, cultivate surprise, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, frog, generosity, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, morning glory, opportunity, story, studio melange, surprise, the melange | Leave a comment »

Feed The Ammals [on KS Friday]

Posted on July 28, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

Cris wrote that a bunny comes to their back door each day and Brenda feeds it by hand. “I want to feed a bunny by hand!” Kerri pouts and looks at me with the look, which means I am supposed to do something about it. My head fills with images of unsuccessful bunny wrangling, ridiculous bunny coercion techniques, failed bunny temptation – and then I race to write down my mad imaginings since they’d make fine smack-dab cartoons.

This is the year of the bunny in our backyard. We’ve never had rabbits-in-residence until this summer. As we wrote earlier in the year, we discovered a bunny nest in the tall grasses beneath Breck-the-aspen-tree. Dogga has been on constant sniff-patrol and is consistently outsmarted by the bunnies. My favorite was the day he stared intently at the last-known-bunny-location while the bunny circled around and sat behind him, watching Dogga watch.

The bird feeder is an attraction for all kinds of ammals (animals in Jaxon-speak). Chipmunks and squirrels are regular raiders. The wrens and finches and cardinals toss seed to the ground so there’s plenty for everyone. The bunnies are regulars, too. It’s a well-ordered united nations under the feeder. I am of the opinion that diplomats could learn a thing or two from this happy gathering of critters. The pie is not limited in the ammal-kingdom (I know, I know. Idealist…)

We have a suspicion that the mother bunny – or another mother bunny – is rebuilding the nest. Kerri quietly checks the tall grasses a few times every day. “Maybe you should sit there with snacks at the ready,” I suggest. “If you’re the first thing the baby bunnies see in the world they might take snacks out of your hand.” She wrinkles her brow, completely rejecting my bright idea. “Just a thought,” I say. “Hey, I’d bring you wine. And a blanket!” Her eyes narrow, a sign of imminent peril if I persist.

I race to the notebook to record another fantastic-true-to-life-smack-dab idea.