The day I endangered the birds in my garden trying to save them

I knew hell was paved with good intentions, but I did not know until recently that, under the famous cobblestones, there could be grass, a few flowers and a composter: my personal Eden. A garden of around thirty square meters in the great Parisian suburbs. A little corner of paradise in times of confinement where I thought I had, at the beginning of the year, the best of ideas: to install a bird feeder for the sparrows and thus contribute at my modest level to the rescue of nature. Catastrophic by the observations of the collapse of bird populations in the countryside of France (a third less in fifteen years according to studies by the CNRS and the Natural History Museum) and determined to live harmoniously with chickadees, robins and goldfinches, me, hummingbird from Yvelines, I decided to acquire a feeder model with Velcro hook (no drill, no stress) to fight against the great fire of the living. In addition: 2.5 kg of a mixture of seeds composed of sunflower hearts, cracked corn and oatmeal. All of this is obviously guaranteed organic farming.

Want to be in the front row

In a well-cleared place, at least three meters from the ground, out of reach of the tomcat (because yes, the family unit includes a placid-looking feline, but we will soon see that it is not), I fix therefore on a gutter this manna offered to the fragile people of heaven. Turning around from the top of my stepladder, I can contemplate my work: there, a waste recovery corner, here, a small insect hotel to facilitate the wintering of small animals, no trace of pesticides or other chemicals … ‘wait until Allain Bougrain-Dubourg and Nicolas Hulot emerge from behind the hazel tree to label my garden.

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The first few days are very calm. I find myself disappointed not to see birds approaching the self-service. I want to help nature, of course, but I also want to be at the forefront of the spectacle of its rescue. It is there, in my garden, that the beginning of Noah’s ark will be organized. Finally, after a few weeks, the tits come into play. Charcoal and blue-headed with their cute little puffs. Then a few sparrows, black robins and robins. Between the feeder and the drinker installed on the edge of a wall opposite, a ballet perfectly kawaii gets ready. Sometimes frantic. The passerines, who appear to have very strong preferences in the seed mixture, disperse the food to the rhythm of their jerky nods. Shards of corn seeds accumulate on the ground.

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