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Hope is the thing with feathers: Al Batt answers a few questions about birds in Minnesota

Naturally.

The morning was eerily quiet. A cold rain had cast a cloak of silence over my world. Then the hush was punctured by the outraged calls of blue jays. They had likely found the perch of a Cooper’s hawk.

I put out some sunflower seeds because every feeder looks better covered in birds. A chickadee arrived at the feeders shortly thereafter. The tiny bird is an emblem of optimism. My happy kicked in.

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