We have a bird feeding station behind the house, something Linda and I debate. I am of the opinion that birds are capable of feeding themselves, as are squirrels, but I can build some bird houses. She on the other hand feels it's more important to feed them and then let them find their own accommodations.

The compromise is that she feeds them, and I've put up some housing. Maddeningly, nothing has (as yet) taken up residence in the several houses I've installed, while she is constantly replenishing the feeders.

I've found it wise not only to admit when I'm wrong, but also to remind her of it often. Lest she think I forget that I'm always wrong. When I disagree with her, that is.

"Sure are getting birds at the feeder, Hon."

We get an assortment of woodpeckers, finches, catbirds, cardinals, jays, the occasional hummingbird, and the creek out back provides habitat for herons, ducks and small waders. Mahoning Mountain also attracts bald eagles and red-tail hawks, plus some birds we can't find in the field guide. We call those UFOs, as they are unidentified flying objects.

I'm not a bird watcher, but when a critter lands where I read the Sunday paper it gets my attention. Happens often; so often that I've taken to having binoculars and the field guide handy in case something interesting makes an appearance.

As it happens, the house next door is for sale. People meander through that backyard from time to time, examining the property. While we have privacy, you can hear people in the next yard, so I expect they can hear us.

One day Linda and I are having coffee on the patio when she spots a bird she can't identify.

"Mike, look! Behind the Ash tree!" I put down the paper and fetch up the field glasses.

"What is that?" I can't tell. Weird-looking thing, and large. Linda loves seeing critters, it's her nature.

"Cool! It's a UFO!"

"Yup. Big one, too. Look at that thing!" I hand over the glasses. It's wise to be quick about that, too.

"See it land?"

"No, it was just there." We agreed that was unexpected.

"Oh, it's getting ready to take off!" The bird rustles its feathers and stretches one wing, then examines the ground. At this point I see someone in the next yard and lower my voice.

"Don't move! I want to see if I can get a closer look!" Rising quietly from my chair, I notice that the neighbor is feigning nonchalance behind the hedge. I'm hoping he doesn't spook it.

"Be careful!" Linda says, like this bird is going to turn tiger on me. She has taken my advice as a negative example, and is rising from her chair to follow me. Granted it was a large bird, we couldn't get a clear look, so maybe she thought I needed back-up. Might be a griffin. The neighbor is now looking over the hedge and peering behind our house, a curious look on his face.

In semi-crouch, we sneak up on the unsuspecting avian, Linda with binoculars and me with the paper. I don't know why I had the paper, except I was reading an article a minute earlier. As we approached, the critter caught sight of us and flew off suddenly, prompting Linda to let out a yelp.

The next thing I hear is laughter from the hedgerow. Apparently our neighbor overheard us, thought we were seeing an actual UFO and was trying to get a glimpse for himself. But all he saw, he said, was a wild turkey.