A cherry gum ball of a head poked up from the ledge and cocked to one side, uttering an inquisitive chirp and inspecting the room from behind plexiglass. ![]() I joined him, and we peered around the door until the startled visitor worked up the courage to return. Then, one morning in March, as I brewed coffee in the kitchen, Jeff strode into the office and sprang back out again, announcing he’d seen a flash of red. I began working in the industrial-grade construction earmuffs I’d bought when masons were repointing our building’s facade, grinding out the mortar between the bricks. Now, as our thermostat plummeted, I told Jeff not to worry-that I just wanted to see if I could attract a pigeon or two, inevitably followed by a zillion pigeons, at which point I’d have to take the feeder down. Traditional wisdom dictates that birds don’t become dependent on a free lunch. I was impressed until I realized he was mimicking a car alarm. ![]() Once, when we were dating, we went on a short hike in New Jersey, where he strode purposefully to the edge of the woods, leaned into the trees, and began uttering a convincing trilling call followed by a kind of whirring and honking. But then, as a native New Yorker, he is not exactly Mr. Despite my best efforts to insulate the edges of the wobbly wooden feeder, freezing January air whistled through the apartment, slamming shut any door left ajar. Two hundred and fifty feet above ground-the height of the tallest giant sequoias in the Sierra Nevada-the wind howls more often than not. Nevertheless, I ordered the feeder, filled it with birdseed, and installed it in my window, where it interrupted the soundproofing, so I found myself working amid a cacophony of sirens and jackhammering. The answer-that attractive foliage can help, but don’t hold your breath-wasn’t promising, considering I don’t have a balcony and scarcely overlook a tree. He pointed me to the website of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, where someone had inquired about luring birds to a 17th-floor balcony. “Frankly, I’m not overly optimistic about attracting birds to feed in a high-rise setting,” he wrote, explaining that most species search for food at specific heights. In reply to my enthusiastic query, however, Coveside’s owner, Jim Turpin, was less than a salesman. No part of the contraption dangles outside, presumably rendering it safe for urban use. Seeking a remedy, I discovered a small Maine company called Coveside Conservation Products, which makes a unique “Panoramic in-House Window Bird Feeder.” A semicircular mahogany platform enclosed with plexiglass, the feeder fits into an open window and juts inward, providing a front-row view of birds bold enough to enter. Made in the USA.Having sworn off swamps, I missed a connection to the wild. Enjoy bird activity nearer to you with this Windowsill Bird Feeder with Mirrored Back. The soft brown hue of the wood also adds a lovely hint to the piece. The screening also allows water to drain, and the wooden frame keeps all seed in place. The bottom of the feeder is crafted from metal screen, holding 1.5 quarts of seed and offering a safe place for birds to rest. A clear plastic top offers a different view, for added birding enjoyment. These panels have a mirrored finish on the exterior, so birds cannot see in but you can watch them with ease. Two acrylic panels create a back on the item, which slides open in the center for easy refilling and cleaning. Mahogany dowels insert into holes on the sides of the item, and an internal spring holds them in place in windows from 22" to 38" wide. This stylish feeder rests on your windowsill, for up close birding action. ![]() Invite birds to dine near you using the Coveside Windowsill Bird Feeder with Mirrored Back. Coveside Windowsill Bird Feeder with Mirrored Back 25900
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