If you feed them, they will come and speaking bird...

My front garden is becoming my tropical version of the birdie day spa I created in Maryland.  The thistle seed feeder has attracted what I confirmed to be a purple finch, using my trusty Peterson's Field Guide (and a teensy peek at the internet.)  Peterson's was a staple of my youth. Growing up,we kept a running list of all the birds we spotted from our deck in Massachusetts.  Maybe I am easily amused, but I crack up at the field guide's descriptions of the bird calls. I already speak Cardinal, Nuthatch, Titmouse, and Chickadee.  Here are some languages I hope to pick up:

The Rose-breasted Grosbeak features "metallic kick or eek." I'm already proficient in 'eek,' just ask my family. I'm pretty good at kick too. The Cardinal has a short chip, but I have not mastered the finer idioms of "what-cheer cheer cheer or  whoit whoit, etc." (Yes, the guide specifies 'etc.' Cardinals have a working knowledge of Latin. Who knew?) The Indigo Bunting and I share the occasional "sharp thin spit."

Peterson distinguishes between the Warbler's tory-tory-tory and churry-churry-churry. The Louisiana Water-Thrush is know for  "clear slurred whistles," probably a New Orleans influence, a little too much rouler les bon temps at the birdbath. I will close with the Oven-Bird's 'chertea, CHERTEA, CHERTEA' because I need to get into my studio and quit this entertaining of self.  Peterson notes that in some regions, Western Virginia for example, the "song becomes monosyllabic with little change of emphasis  TEACH, TEACH, TEACH etc." Those Virginians are big into education even if they can't pronounce house. My poor mother still endures our mimics of  her "get oh-oo-t of the hoh-oo-s." Virginian is like Canadian with serifs.