ST. PADDY'S EVE/SATURDAY AFTERNOON AT THE DINER

It was Saturday double-date night for two finch couples at the Diner. The males were looking resplendent with their mating raspberry colors head and chest, while the wives arrived in their demure camouflage suit of grey brown with streaky white and brown chests.The couples took turns eating at the feeder, buffet and bath.

They were joined occasionally by an unintrusive chickadee who swung by for a quick bite.

Sometimes the ladies would sit and chat in the shrubs while their fellows ate.

After a half hour, Nutkin whipped in and did his usual thing: went to the bath, ran to the buffet, back to the bath, up the birch back to the buffet.
 

Stubbs walked in, took one look at this nonsense and chased Nutkin out. The finches left shortly afterward. Stubbs found a peanut and ran towards the East garden to bury it. Nutkin dashed back in and was so shocked by what he found that he didn't know if he should shit or go blind: the Diner was empty and he had the joint to himself! Not to waste this unusual opportunity, he began to gorge himself at the buffet on seed, peanuts, scraps of sourdough bread and continual runs over to the bath. He was a happy dude. Soon, the late afternoon regulars begin to stop by: RB and his wife, the Jays, Señor Junco and Lil' Woody. 

Buddy and I were on the couch in front of the hearth. He was engaged in some cleaning as he lay next to me. I watched these goings on and lifted my glass to my neighbors and bid them  Sláinte in the coming year.