A Bird Feeder with Family History

A few days after we had our new house under contract, my husband’s phone rang. It was about mid-afternoon, so we knew who was calling. It was Gramps, my husband’s grandfather. He calls almost everyday. Just to see what we’re doing. To make sure we’re doing what we should be doing, not doing what we shouldn’t be doing, to check on his great-grandsons whom he loves dearly, to give me a hard time because that’s how he rolls.

I listened to my husband’s side of the conversation and knew what was being asked.

In short, Gramps was making sure that we were taking the bird feeder he made for me with us to the new house.

As if that was ever a question.

I love birds. If you’ve followed me over the years, you know of my love for birds. When I found out, years ago, that Gramps could make a bird feeder, I asked for one. It took him nearly four years to get around to making it, but when he did, it was the Taj Mahal of bird feeders. Two floors, a heated bird bath and a tin roof. It was amazing and wonderful and brought even more bird friends to our old back yard.

So, yes, by golly, I was taking it with us!

Shortly after we moved in and settled, my husband went back for the white bird feeder. He had me pick where I wanted it put in the ground. It had to be viewable from my office as I spend most of my weekday hours there, so I picked a spot in line with the window from my office. But it also had to be viewable from both the window over the kitchen sink and the dining room windows. So I ran around the house while my husband stood in the spot that I had picked for the bird feeder. I’m sure we looked funny; him standing still, all alone in the yard, me peeking out of windows.

And then he went about digging a hole and burying the pole.

With some help.

LittleBrother is in a “helping” phase. Sometimes it’s… annoying. Because it’s quicker and easier when I set the table, but why would you say no to a child who wants to help. And it’s faster to wash the car without little hands and many questions, but the helping heart is so pure that saying no feels cruel.

So as FireDad attempted to dig a hole and set up my bird feeder, LittleBrother stood and asked his daddy a billion and twelve questions.

Bird House

Bird House

And really, it’s quite perfect. Because now my bird feeder that I adore so much because I love birds and my husband’s grandfather took the time to make me such a masterpiece also has the additional family history that our youngest son talked his dad’s ear off while “helping” put it in the ground.

Bird House

Knowing that I’ll think of Gramps, FireDad and LittleBrother every time I look at my bird feeder makes me smile. I love that something relatively “new” in our family has so much history attached to it.

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8 Comments

  1. No picture of the actual feeder??? Don’t leave us wondering what the masterpiece looks like!

    Reply
    • Ha! I know, right? I haven’t taken a pic of it in its new place yet. Here it is at the old house last summer:

      Reply
      • Oh, that is so pretty. Thanks for sharing! Hope y’all are having a great weekend :)

        Reply
  2. I was looking too for a picture of the birdhouse. Nice.

    Reply
  3. It is important to a families history to keep things of importance especially made by a family members own hands. It teaches us, reminds us of who we are and where we came from. In this day and age of disposable items it is refreshing to hear that you as you moved made sure that the bird feeder followed you. It would have been esier Im sure to leave it behind. But be doing that new memories could not have been added to the history of the bird feeder. Thanks for sharing.

    Reply
  4. What a lovely story of a lovely birdhouse!

    Reply
  5. I’m a sucker for family stories AND making friends with local birdies (we have a hawk I’ve named Maximus and several bluebirds all named Jeremiah), so I love this post! The bestest part, though, is that LOOK on LB’s face in that last pic. Ha! Perfect! :)

    Reply

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