I watch your tits and finches noting that where most people have one feeder, you’ve strung up six with another eight glass jars filled with seed you fill by hand.
The feeders closest to the window framed with a solid metal second frame to keep the crows out, while creating a theatre of wrens, robins, sparrows that vie for feed, call for mates, or squabble for access.
No fools, hooded crows sit, not far away, on the way, wait as schoolyard bullies might keep watch, plotting murder, then sweep down to make do with fallen chaff.