Rather ironic, isn’t it, that often we think more about creatures in the wild precisely at the season when we’re housebound, at least temporarily, by bad weather.

After a January spring, suddenly the cold has descended upon us again. We can’t complain, as we watch the Weather Channel at all those everywhere who are suffering real inconvenience, with lake-effect snow and torrential rains and icy highways. And these aren’t just nebulous somebodies, they’re people we know and share plant interests with, and we’re concerned, as they have been concerned for us after the 2001 tornado and especially the Katrina experience.

When the weather threatens to dip into the 20s, we think about those who may suffer, and that’s not just people but also the animal kingdom. Herman went into a flurry of activity, putting up a bluebird house and a bird feeder, both cedar, both new, which we’d had in the garage for a couple of years.

So now the birds are getting fed, very regularly. To deter the squirrels, if possible, from climbing on the feeder, he set up a ground-level feeding station. The doves come there also, and some cardinals, which much prefer, it seems, to feed at ground level. The squirrels must get rather agitated, because even though we’ve weighed down these plastic trays with a brick apiece, they’re moved around and even turned over every morning.

We hung the cedar feeder on the landing, shifting one of the now-empty hanging baskets. And that’s a twice-a-day refilling. Nothing’s ideal, though. The birds, and the squirrels who come to gobble up what they spill, aren’t too kind to the plants on stands and on the ground. I’ve moved the potted plants, and they won’t be put back until Herman has decided it’s too warm for the birds to need supplemental food.

Shopping for birdseed is an interesting experience in itself, one we share with others, strangers mostly, at local stores. There’s such a wide variety, in kind, in price, and in size of sack. You want to buy enough sunflower seed to attract the cardinals (and, alas, the squirrels), and enough smaller seeds for the little birds — the chickadees and titmice and the like. We learned the hard way not to try to store the sack of birdseed in a watering can on the landing, as the aggressive squirrels turn the can over and get it out.

One thing none of our birds seem to want to eat is rye grass seed. We had a lot left over from a lawn seeding, and strewed it over the ground feeding area. They don’t like it at all, and as a result of all this rain, we’re going to have a green and grassy driveway area. Which is not all bad.

All of this isn’t a new experience for us exactly, but a repetition of long past. When we lived in town, we kept a bird feeder by the patio well stocked for four or five months of the year, and thoroughly enjoyed all our visitors. We had many more cardinals in town than we do out here, but in the country we have bluebirds. Everything’s a trade-off.

We never got into the bird feeding business here until this winter. With our own dog, who would have scared the birds away — I’m sure she’d never catch one, as they had the flight-pattern advantage — there was no use in putting up a feeder. And the neighbors had wandering cats, which is ok.

But now we’re back to feeding, and it’s a delight.

Birds and squirrels aren’t the only visitors, of course. The other morning early, I looked out and called to Herman, “Come here — it looks like a moose coming up out of the woods!” I knew it wasn’t, of course, but just a deer in her winter coat. It was really rough and thick, though. That was the last open weekend of hunting season, and mostly they’ve stayed in the woods since then.

But yesterday when we drove in, one fawn just stood about 40 feet away and stared at us for as long as we would be still, evidently not afraid. When we moved, he scooted away. And this morning, very early, all of that family, all three of them, bounded away, down into the wooded valley, and over into the deep woods behind the next house. I doubt if deer eat birdseed, but some creature (It’s always easier to blame everything on the squirrel.) had knocked over a planter stand.

Oh, well. I can have pots full of annuals and drooping hanging baskets lush with color, in the warmer weather, when I know the birds and other creatures aren’t going hungry. And it’s a pleasure to watch them.