“What would you like for your birthday?” I didn’t really have much interest in this particular birthday. It’s a milestone, the year that you are bombarded with Medicare supplement ads and other unwelcome reminders of achieving “Senior Status”. The last time I was excited about being a senior was 1981. We won’t go there.

The questions started at the end of October. Jeanne asked me a few times as the dates on the November calendar began to slip away. I don’t want or need anything. I guess I’m at the age where the quest for stuff is no longer a thing. Only a few months removed from a move from Virginia to Georgia and still dealing with where to put my stuff, I didn’t see the need to add more to the pile.

She was earnest. I suggested we get a bird feeder. We live on the edge of a tidal marsh in the Georgia Low Country. There is no shortage of wildlife. In addition to a variety of mammal species, some of which like eating parts of my car, there is a varied collection of avian residents who either migrate through or make their home in the marsh and the coastal maritime forest. We have an assortment of raptors, ducks, geese, herons, ibis, gulls, pelicans, wood storks, and songbirds. My trusty dog-eared copy of the Peterson Field Guide for Eastern Birds (circa 1980) and my binoculars from my days in the Navy are getting a workout as I try to figure out who’s who in the marsh.

My gift for turning legally old will be a bird feeder. We hopped in the car and headed to our local wild bird outfitter. I thought it would be a quick look around, grab a feeder and a bag of seed, and we would be out of here. What is the old saying about no plan surviving first contact? Right up front, let me admit I get analysis paralysis fairly quickly if given too many choices. I was overwhelmed by the selection of bird gear that was available. They were not messing around here. The staff were overly helpful, especially the young lady who waited on us.

“We are looking for a feeder.” Seemed straightforward enough. The questions came rapid-fire after that: “What kind of birds are you trying to attract?” The kind that fly to feeders?! “Songbirds, woodpeckers, migratory, hummingbirds?” How about territorial raptors or scavengers? That would be great for me, not so much for the neighbor’s yappy little dog. The questions on the feeder style came next. “We have cylindrical, eco clean, retro, hopper, tray, finch feeders, suet, and modern rustic”. Brain overload is beginning to set in. “As for food, we have seed cylinders and cakes, super blends of seeds, millet, butter bark, no mess blends, and peanuts. We have hot pepper blends that the birds eat but the squirrels won’t.” My overloaded brain began to wonder if birds could eat cilantro without it tasting like soap.

Maybe I should’ve tweeted something: “Senior man, new to the Georgia Low Country, seeks Carolina Chickadee for a quick bite and quiet moments beside the marsh.”

Eventually, they came. The feeder now overflows with finches, bluebirds, cardinals, woodpeckers, and chickadees. Mourning Doves pick up the seeds scattered on the ground from the messy songbirds. No eagles or hawks yet, the neighbor’s dog lives another day to yap at me as I make my way to the mailbox.

I’m afraid my phone has been eavesdropping on me during this whole ordeal, resulting in a barrage of Instagram and Facebook ads for feeders, birdbaths, and birdwatching gear. You may have seen ads for feeders with motion-activated cameras that take little birdie selfies while they scatter seed everywhere. I will resist the urge to get a camera and a monthly app fee that will enable AI to misidentify my local feathered visitors as exotic accidentals that may bring the local Ogeechee Audubon Society to the yard.

I’m on the hook for Christmas gift hints now. I learned my lesson with the bird feeder. For birding supplies, we will head to the local hardware store. As for my next birthday, I may just ask for a Lego set.