Find the Birdie

I have put the bird feeders UP and sheltered in the honeysuckle to prevent Mabel the Cat doing more than look.

(And looks she does - clearly its cat's tv!)

But what weather. Its still so much more like autumn:

Bright yellow, red, and orange,
--The leaves come down in hosts;
The trees are Indian princes,
--But soon they’ll turn to ghosts;
The scanty pears and apples
--Hang russet on the bough;
It’s autumn, autumn, autumn late,
--’Twill soon be winter now.
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
And what will this poor Robin do?
For pinching days are near

My sympathy is limited. In this garden poor Robin and his mate will carry on fighting the other songbirds and resident wrens for peanuts, fatballs and seeds.