Strictly for the Birds

During a particularly hot stretch of weather this past summer, an animal lover who posts on my town’s listserv recommended that people keep bowls of fresh water available in their yards for the local wildlife. I thought that sounded like a good idea because my husband and I are well acquainted with our resident squirrels, raccoons, skunks, possums, and deer, not to mention a stray cat that’s a very frequent visitor. I filled small round pan with water and set it out in the backyard at the edge of the driveway.

Thirsty animals in search of a drink may have visited during the night, but the most active use of the water bowl turned out to be as a birdbath. A bird—usually one of our very numerous doves—would hop in and thrash about, flapping its wings vigorously and splashing water onto the driveway until the pan was nearly empty. I would refill it, another bird would visit, and the process would be repeated.

One day I noticed two birds trying to squeeze in at once and it occurred to me that group baths would be fun. I got out the large rectangular roasting pan I use once a year for our Thanksgiving turkey, set it on the driveway in place of the small round pan, and filled it with water. The result was highly entertaining. The pan would remain unvisited for long stretches of time, but then a bird would perch on the edge, contemplate the water for a bit, and hop in.

All at once, seemingly impelled by fear of missing out—it appears birds are susceptible to FOMO—other birds would converge. If one bird was having fun splashing about, all the others in the vicinity seemed to decide they needed a bath too. One day I counted six birds all splashing about at once in the roasting pan.

The squirrels showed an interest in the birdbath too—not to bathe but to take the occasional sip of water. Evidently birds, even ones as large as doves, are afraid of squirrels, though it’s hard to imagine what a squirrel might do to a bird. If a squirrel came around while they were bathing, however, all the birds would scatter, and the squirrels didn’t seem to mind drinking bath water. Birds sometimes drank too, perching on the edge, dipping their beaks in, and tipping their heads back to swallow.

Now that it’s October and the weather is becoming definitely autumnal, the bath season appears to be over. Birds are, after all, warm-blooded creatures, and I guess the prospect of being wet on a windy and overcast day doesn’t appeal—any more than a dip in a pool would appeal to a human. The roasting pan is still in place at the edge of the driveway, but the only visitors these days come in search of the occasional drink of water.

I hadn’t thought too far ahead when I decided to offer my turkey-roasting pan to the birds, but it began to occur to me that, even if I scoured it thoroughly, the idea of cooking in a pan that birds had been bathing in was rather unsavory. Then, as luck would have it, I was browsing at an estate sale a few weeks ago when I came upon a roasting pan much sturdier and nicer than my old one and just the right size to accommodate a turkey. Unlike the old one, it even has convenient handles.

I’ll leave the old pan outside, filled with water, until the weather turns icy. Then I’ll store it in the garage until the time comes next summer to open the pool for another season of bathing.