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"Do you remember where I put that wooden bird feeder?"
Ron was raking together his third substantial pile of dead leaves when he heard Carwood holler out to him from the shed. He stood up straight, inducing a satisfying crack down his spine and used the rake as an arm rest.
"The one you bought just before Christmas?" He was watching the entrance to the shed from across the yard when he heard a loud crash, followed by a string of low grumbled curses. Ron began to grin gingerly, using his free hand to shade his eyes from the sun. Moments later he saw Carwood's hand poke out from the doorway, waving him over.
Upon entering, Ron immediately grabbed a large cardboard box from one of the shelves and began searching for this bird feeder. Most of the belongings in the shed were left behind by this home's previous owners; gardening tools, some clay pots for plants, the rake he had been using, some other assorted knick-knacks and things alike.
Having moved into this modest home in the country the previous October, this was their first time spring cleaning. They easily decided the location was ideal; close enough that driving into town was not an inconvenience, yet secluded enough by hinterland that they could have privacy.
"I do remember you folding it up in a hideous orange blanket before bringing it out here, though." Ron offered, earning a bashful chuckle from Carwood.
In due time, Ron had hauled up a box where he saw the dusty apricot coloured fabric in question. Brushing away some of the soot, he unwrapped the blanket to reveal the bird feeder. It was a simple thing, looking much like a bird house. It's walls didn't reach the roof, they merely acted as a boundary for the bird seed.
Not without a skeptical glare, he presented the bird feeder to Carwood in a manner much like a waiter would present a meal on a silver platter, the blanket acting as the lid.
"There's plenty of birds around here already," Ron began to say as Carwood accepted the bird feeder with a pleasant grin. "You're aware that bird seed will attract more than just birds."
"The set up nearly guarantees that no squirrel will be able to climb into the feeder," Carwood recalled the instructions from the shop owner where he purchased the bird feeder. It was a straightforward construct, requiring no more than a smooth wooden mast and some screws. The house-shaped feeder already had a wide enough platform to prevent squirrels from climbing over it, if they manage to clamber up to the underside at all.
After locating all the hardware he needed, Carwood ushered Ron out from the shed closer to their home. Finding an agreeable position away from overhanging branches, he went directly into assembly mode.
Ron idly observed. He offered to assist on several occasions, one of which Carwood had reached out and grasped his hand, placing a gentle kiss on top before mumbling "thanks for the hand," and continued with his work. Realistically, Ron knew it was a one-man job, and he definitely did not mind watching.
Upon completion, Carwood took a step back to stand next to Ron, nudging him playfully with an elbow until a smile was tugging the edges of his mouth.
"Nicely done," he swept the tips of his fingers over engravings in the little rooftop. "It is missing something, though."
Carwood raised an eyebrow in question. "Bird seed?"
"Bird seed."
"Well, next time we go into town, we can pick some up."
Before either man could say anything further, they heard the faint sound of the telephone ringing from their house. With a brief exchange in gaze, Carwood decided to answer the call and Ron went back to his latest pile of leaves.
Several minutes following he heard the backdoor swing open.
"It was my mother, she wondered if I could help with a little yard work at her place" Carwood sat himself on one of the lounge chairs, watching as Ron approached him. "You don't mind if I go over for a few hours, do you?"
"Not at all," he scanned the expanse of the backyard, which most of the yard work was nearly complete and it wasn't even after noon. "I'll finish up what's left here."
"Thank you," Carwood smiled his warm, sincere smile that never failed to cause Ron's heart to skip a beat. "Please don't forget to eat some lunch."
Ron simply huffed, already considering a peanut butter sandwich and coffee. He pointed down at Carwood's feet where his laces were in an optimal position to cause a stumble. "Don't forget to tie your shoes."
Before returning to the house, he knelt down in front of Carwood and tilted his chin up just enough to place a heartfelt kiss against his lips.
*
Ron had made a peanut butter sandwich and downed a cup of coffee as planned, then after he cleaned himself up enough to venture into town. He picked up some essential groceries and bird seed, even a hefty field guide book titled 'Birds of North America' which he planted square in the center of the dining room table. They didn't own too many books yet, and between their country home location and newly built bird feeder, he hoped Carwood would find it a pleasant surprise.
Not an hour later Ron finished liberating the backyard of dead leaves, then he moved onto reorganizing the boxes in the shed. Afterwards, he deposited a generous amount of seeds to the bird feeder, then rested the sizable bag next to his lounge chair. Grabbing a beer, bottle opener and a pack of cigarettes he finally sat down to enjoy the spring sunshine.
The peace he felt was utmost; the lightness and warmth, the stillness in the air, a morning full of yard work. He could doze off, he presumed. Carwood would return to him passed out in his chair, skin sunburned and his beer forgotten and spilled onto his lap.
Ron wasn't certain how much time had passed by now, his dreaminess unsettled by soft chirping and the flutter of wings. Taking the last swig from his bottle, he watched as a bright yellow-feathered bird perched on the feeder, gobbling up a few seeds.
A few minutes flew by and Ron didn't divert his gaze from that yellow bird. He observed how a few of it's feathers were decorated with black, some with white. The bird feeder was far enough away from the house that no squirrel could make a successful leap over, but it was also near enough that he could study the twitchy creature with immense detail. He was beginning to ponder whether or not Carwood would enjoy a camera for his birthday.
When he stood up to fetch himself another beer, the yellow bird abruptly took flight. It didn't fly far away; he surveyed as it landed on the roof of the shed.
During the few seconds he spent in the kitchen, the yellow bird had returned to the bird feeder. Ron leisurely made his way back to his chair, took a sip from his crisp cool beer and then set it aside on the patio table.
There were two additional birds now, both with reddish coloured feathers. The yellow bird didn't seem to mind the company.
Ron gazed down at the bag of bird seed next to his chair, reached in for a suitable handful, then extended his arm over the patio table and waited patiently.
"What the hell," he muttered to himself.
*
Carwood returned home after a few hours, as predicted. When he called out for Ron, the air remained silent.
He wandered into the kitchen and promptly took notice of the sturdy hard-covered book resting on the dining table. He flipped through some pages, pulling out a bookmark with an illustration of a familiar cartoon bird.
Gazing out the kitchen window, he fixed his eyes on Ron. His smile was soft, he sat motionless in the low wicker chair. The afternoon sunlight bound across his features stunningly. He had one hand resting open on his lap with a bird settled in his palm, it poked it's little head up every few seconds as it munched away on seeds. There was another small bird perched on his shoulder behaving as docile as the one in his hand.
Carwood simply took in the sight for a while; Ron would lean over to grasp a new pinch of bird seed, the couple birds brave enough to rest on him would stir briefly but return moments after he settled back down in his chair.
He could barely believe the scenario before his eyes, a delighted smile spread across his features as he approached the backdoor.
The very second Ron heard the door swing open he looked up at him. If he felt caught off guard, he was doing nothing to portray it. The birds simply retreated to the bird feeder.
"Carwood," he exhaled his name sweetly with a smirk, motioning for him to take the chair to his side. After he did so, Ron grasped his hand earnestly and poured the remaining seeds in his hand to Carwood's.
"I didn't intend to scare them off you," he meant sincerely.
"Just wait, they'll come back." Ron assured, draping an arm across Carwood's shoulders.
Sure enough, one bird returned to his hand, initiating a few distressed chirping noises when it acknowledged his hand was now empty. Carwood remained hushed, leaning into his side and held his hand open steadily against Ron's leg. It didn't take long for the bird to deem his hand safe as well, and his smile was grand when the bird balanced itself on his thumb, ducking down for seeds.
Soon, a couple more birds landed nearby.
Ron grabbed a small handful of bird seed for himself then gave Carwood a gentle kiss on the cheek, urging him to sit back in the chair. When he obliged, he smoothed down the fabric of Carwood's faded flannel shirt and placed some bird seed onto his shoulder.
He kept as still as he could manage, suppressing a delighted chuckle when the yellow bird from his hand fluttered up to perch itself on his shoulder.
"That's Tweety. No sudden movements, or he'll shit on you." Ron warned, nodding towards the yellow bird while Carwood was eyeing him expectantly. "That navy blue vest I was wearing before you left; he went down the back of it when I tried to take a sip from my beer."
"Did you ruin Ron's vest?" Amusement tinged Carwood's voice as he side-eyed the bird on his shoulder. "That's his favourite vest."
"It's my only decent vest," Ron clarified.
"Because I picked it out for you," a light laughter escaped him then, the yellow bird didn't seem to mind. "Isn't that supposed to be lucky?"
"There's nothing lucky about having your clothes sullied by a bird."
"Ron, we have a washing machine," Carwood turned to face him, his smile was genuine. "Besides, you gave a name to the bird. I dare say you've been enjoying the wildlife despite a little consequence."
"Maybe," Ron raised a brow, then stood up and ventured into the house to grab a drink for Carwood, absolutely elated.
When he returned to his seat, Carwood leaned over and emptied his handful of bird seed onto the top of Ron's head. Before he had any opportunity to protest, he quickly moved to rest his hand under Ron's chin to keep him still.
"Shhh, it's worth a shot."
Ron lamely rolled his eyes, but he was smiling optimistically at Carwood.
Minutes passed before the birds approached them once again. One flew to Ron's familiar shoulder, then tentatively hopped up and rested in his hair. The chirping intensified temporarily when Ron attempted to contain his cheer, not wanting to frighten away the bird.
"I could get used to this," Carwood spoke as he took a sip from his beer. He watched with thorough merriment as Tweety flew over, landing in a flutter next to the other bird on Ron's head. He swore he witnessed a look of mild panic flash over his features when Ron recognized Tweety's landing.
He gradually reached over to embrace Carwood's hand in his own, not wanting to startle Tweety again. His grin was entirely gratified.
"I was just thinking the very same."