White Dog was sitting on the bed looking out of the window, watching the birds. "They are singing up quite a chorus this morning," I said as I came in and sat beside her. "Yes, but listen it is a sad song. They are upset," she quietly replied.
I could tell by the tone of her voice that whatever the problem was, that WD was most definitely on their side.
"So what do you think they are so worked up about?" I asked as I softly stroked her ruff.
"It is dad's fault and I don't want to make him mad." I scrunched up my face in concentration trying to imagine what Steve, the animal lover who takes spiders back outdoors, could possibly have done to our backyard birds. "Tell me, Sweet Girl," I prompted, "I am sure that dad did nothing in meanness maybe it is just a matter of perspective."
White Dog confirmed, as we had planned the night before, that Steve had gone up on the roof to see why water was coming down the downspout. He discovered that the water line to the evaporative cooler had a crack in it and the water was fountaining onto the roof. He had run to the local hardware store and then replaced the inexpensive tubing. Problem fixed. Water no longer wasted.
But new problem created. The birds had found the fountain and were using it as a water source. Steve's fixing of the cooler line had shutdown that cooling, refreshing, water. The birds...and White Dog...were unhappy, especially in our current heat.
Steve came in a bit later and I discussed the need to provide water for White Dog's feathered friends. He understood immediately and called White Dog over to help problem solve.
We could not put a bird bath in the yard for fear of the birds being "toyed" with by Zsofia and the more feral members of the WDA. It could not be placed where they would be stalked by neighborhood cats. And Steve did not want the van dive bombed by droppings due to increased traffic in the drive area.
Finally, they decided that a small bird water bowl could be set up in the courtyard of my studio. Gated from the rest of the yard and surrounded by a stucco wall, the small patio would allow the birds access to water without disruption.
"Come on," Steve told WD as he grabbed his keys. "Let's go back to the hardware store and see what they have."
White Dog was overjoyed when they finished putting together the results of their shopping adventure...a hanger that fit over the top edge of the wall which held a colorful ceramic pot. Steve caulked closed the drainage hole, added some fist-sized rocks for wading and then had filled the pot with water. It was pretty AND would provide a water source.
White Dog promised to remind Steve to keep it filled. "Now," Steve told her, "go tell your birdie friends about the new watering hole."