If you build it, they will come – right?

More like, if you hang the bird feeder, your yard will look like Snow White’s cottage in the woods on wash day. Not only will your feeder be covered with all types of birds from the surrounding corners of your neck of the woods, but your yard will be filled with deer, rabbits, and other assorted peaceful woodland creatures.

They just might help you do all your chores, too.

Because that’s just the effect that a bird feeder is supposed to have. And because I hung up the largest one I could find and filled it with premium birdseed mix, they will flock to my yard for hours of bird-watching delight.

Right?

Wrong. Stupid birds.

They’re in the yard, they’re in the woods, they’re in the grass. There are no cats or dogs to stalk them and no little children with BB guns needing target practice. It’s as peaceful a yard as you’ll find anywhere.

Besides, it got dang cold outside, the kind of cold that makes you think the witch in her brass bra and the welldigger out in Utah got together to think up more cold-related sayings. 

So before the freezing temperatures settled in last weekend, I hung the feeder, thinking I’d do nature a kindness by giving those birds a little extra energy to make it through the frigid days and nights.

I began watching carefully for winged visitors, expecting my yard to turn into a Wild Kingdom-style aviary. 

I imagined going outside, bundled up like Nanook of the North, so the birds could thank me by landing in my outstretched, glove-covered hands to eat seed from my palm. I would sing and whistle, and they’d join in alongside me, twittering away while they took breaks from their feasting.

But nothing. Nada. Zilch. The birds stayed in the trees and on the ground and in the bushes, mostly hidden from view. 

Why, if I were a bird, I think I’d pay a visit. Goodness, that feeder looks better than the buffet at Ryan’s or the cafeteria line at Niki’s West. Better, even, than a Happy Meal with a free toy. 

Each day over the past week, every time I looked out the window, I watched the feeder for a few minutes, but I saw no birds.

Sweet Husband said that he saw some on there. So did Youngest Daughter. Fat ones, red ones, tiny ones.

Oh, and I was jealous, for I hadn’t seen a single blooming bird sitting on that feeder. I, who had hung the thing and had kept guard, watching it like a hawk.

Bad cliche there. Maybe the birds knew it, too, somehow sensing my demanding presence and great expectations, and they were not about to give me what I wanted.

But this morning I found myself watching again, peering out the window. The sun had risen above the trees, illuminating the icy sheet that covered most of the pond. Birds were in the trees, per the usual, but what did I see in the yard? 

Four deer grazed just beyond the feeder, all of them slender does, turned broadside toward the sun, appreciating the warmth.

Just like a scene out of Snow White.

And then, the long-awaited moment happened. A fat black-and-white chickadee fluttered to the feeder, perching on the right side, where it proceeded to sample the fare. After a few moments, it flew away, but it was soon replaced by a female cardinal, her crest standing tall. 

I watched them all, the birds at the feeder, the deer in the yard, and I was thankful for the buildup to the main event.

For in a time where I can check out the news on any network at any time . . .

Where I can stream any number of television shows, binge-watching until dawn . . .

Where I can instantly look up any number of cliche phrases to describe winter’s cold . . .

Where I can find any song by searching Spotify, YouTube, Apple Music, Amazon Music, etc. . . .

It is good to remember that the best things come to those who wait.

I think I’ll use my trusty Spotify app to play some GNR in honor of the day’s theme. They’ve got a catchy little song about patience.

The moral of the story: if you hang the feeder, the birds will come, eventually.

And it just might look like a scene from Snow White.