Of birds and leaves

Do you have a list of things about yourself you'd like to one day improve, overhaul, or change entirely?  Maybe we all do, and not out of a sense of failure or self-loathing, but because we're meant to grow, to learn, to improve, to move forward - even if the moving forward is in more of a circular direction.

That sounds very deep, and while there certainly are substantial things about myself I'd like to change, the improvement on my mind causing this mullitativeness (hey, if everyone else can make up words, I want in on the game) is that of nature knowledge. I'd like to be more of an outdoorsman (to me, inclusive language means that every person is included in the use of 'man' and 'men'). I like to be outdoors but know very little about it other than that I prefer creepy crawlies to be far away from me. Except the cute ones, like snails and caterpillars.

Three birds were just peering at me in that head-tilted way they have. Two were hopping in the lawn beyond my kitchen door, and one sat rather plumply in the branches of the ornamental tree outside the window in which sits the desk I write at.  One of the lawn hoppers was, I'm almost sure, a robin (it had a red breast) and the other looked to be a crow - unless it was a raven or a grackle.  I used to think I was safe on that one until my sister's father-in-law grilled me as to whether we had true crows here because ravens and grackles were often mistaken for them. As for Aves Plumptious, it had a pretty spotted vest, and moved slowly like a statesman. In fact, though he reminded me of my cat (who was also plump, but incredibly sweet and affectionate), I'm going to name it Winston. Or Chesterton, for he too was plump but not nearly as stuffy.

In any case, I'd like to know what sort of bird he is, and the name of the tree in which he sat.  I've got various pretty growing things in pots on my front steps, and I think I know only half of them - the other half came with long Latin names.  My dad, being army knew a great deal about wilderness survival. He endured being dropped into the Arctic tundra and fending for himself with nothing but a small pack to keep him alive. I don't anticipate having to forage in the tundra but it would be a comfort to know that if Sobeys ran out of produce I'd be ok.

It would also be nice to know the name of the bird glaring at me as I water the leafy green thing.