I have fond memories of going to the ballpark when I was growing up, watching the Baltimore Orioles play at Memorial Stadium.  Double-headers were the best; which in those days meant two games for the price of one.  We would devour footlong hotdogs (our version of fine dining!) while loudly cheering for the hometeam and boisterously booing the umps.  When it came time for the 7th inning stretch we all sang along (really, twang along!) to “Thank God I’m a Country Boy,” never missing a single word.  Over the course of the games the voices of vendors rang through the air – “Cold beer! Ice cold beer! and “Peanuts!  Get your peanuts!” And when the game was done and the O’s had won, we would smile and say, “How ’bout them Birds!”

Sometimes, as I am filling the feeders in my backyard I am tempted to use my best vendor voice and call out, “Peanuts!  Get your Peanuts!”  But my backyard birds have no need of an announcement; peanuts are always a favorite offering and they need no enticing to partake of them.

Some choose to eat from the trays on the deck rail..

…while others prefer to pluck peanuts from the hanging feeder.

As I watch them devouring the fare (their version of fine dining!) I smile and say, “How bout them birds!”