For the Birds

What does my backyard bird feeder have in common with Twitter? And no, it’s not just tweeting …

My bird feeder has been empty for a long time, and now I’m struggling to get my feathered friends back. This situation was a long time in the making. Let me explain …

The day I decided to stop feeding the birds, I convinced myself I was doing the right thing. It was July, and the world was filled with so many bright, juicy berries and crunchy, protein-packed insects; I’m not sure why any self-respecting bird would’ve wanted to stoop to eating at my humble bird feeder anyways. And it really was for the best. Because …

We were getting ready to travel. A lot. And when you feed birds, you have to feed birds. Simply forgetting to do so can have really devastating consequences for our feathered friends. And stopping altogether? That can be even worse. And since I’m not a monster, I didn’t cut them off cold-turkey. I began a slow phase-out. Rather than filling the tube of seeds every day, I started filling it every other day. Then every third day. And so on, until finally, after the better part of a month …

No more seeds

In August we went away to Montana for a little over a week, then had a long weekend in Pennsylvania. In October we travelled to Colorado. When we returned, the weather was cooling. I was tempted to start feeding the birds again, but Christmas was right around the corner. That would mean another eight days away from the feeder.

So I decided I wouldn’t add any new seeds until I could really commit to feeding them again. Which meant January. It felt like a long time to wait, but I figured it was better than getting the neighborhood birds used to a reliable food source, and then taking that away for over a week during the darkest, coldest days of the year. Responsible, right?

January rolled around, and on the first or second day of the month, I gleefully skipped out onto our ice-crusted balcony in my sandals and robe, swung the rotating arm out from over the void, pulled the feeder off and filled it to the brim with delectable black oil sunflower seeds. I fastened the cap back on, swung the arm out again, and headed back inside, convinced I was a hero to bird-kind everywhere. I pulled a stool up to the kitchen window, sat with my coffee and watched the feeder outside. It wouldn’t be long, I was sure …

A watched pot never boils. A watched feeder never … feeds? Alright, I didn’t actually expect a whole flock of chickadees to swarm the thing right away, but I did think maybe I’d have at least one visitor that first day.

Or the second day …

Or the third …

Or the tenth …

By the last week in January I was ready to give it up. I’ve done this phase-out thing in years past, and never had to wait this long for the birds to come back. Again, I really do it for them, so when I go away in the winter I’m not leaving them in the lurch. Brian and I both care about animals so much, the thought of our little birdies going hungry because we aren’t around is almost crippling. But this time something was clearly different. This time, it felt like I broke something.

Trust? My reputation?

Whatever the reason, it was clear that simply putting my seeds out there wasn’t enough. There was another ingredient required to make this bird-feeding recipe a success …

The Games We Play

Of course, this story—while completely true—is an allegory for something else in my life, and the lives of a lot of people I interact with on a daily basis in the writing community. Yep, that’s right, I’m going to shift away from birds for a minute to talk about something else that tweets. Hokey? Yes! Clever? I hope so! Let’s roll our eyes together just to get it out of our system. Ready? Okay. I’m talking about …

Twitter. More specifically audience building.

There’s this social media game a lot of people like to play that goes something like this:

• Follow lots of people
• Unfollow anyone who doesn’t follow you back
• Unfollow anyone who does follow you back after a couple days so they hopefully don’t notice
• Amass way more followers than you are following so you look super cool. Like a celebrity!
• Tweet into the void and rejoice as you are showered with likes and retweets, because you’re the most awesome person ever!

It’s a really great idea. Except … It doesn’t work on Twitter. At all. Twitter users are smart enough to see when they’ve been duped, and they’ll unfollow right back, because …

As a platform, Twitter is designed around the idea of conversation. The authors I know that are really successful take the time to engage with their followers, and any time they hit the magic follow button, it’s because they are genuinely interested in the people they are following. They take the time to like and respond to others and remain active and engaged. They are in it for the community.

And yes, some day they are going to ask their followers to buy a book. Or read a story. Or join a mailing list. Or take an online course. But by the time these requests come around, they’ve built such strong relationships that the idea of supporting these people is a no-brainer. We want to read their books. We want to be on their lists. Because they provide us quality content. They interact with us. And they care.

In short, they’re not in it just for themselves. They give more than they take.

And don’t misunderstand. This is hard work. It takes a lot of time, and I’m certainly far from perfect at it myself. But I’m trying, and seeing a little progress. I make sure to take time every day to scroll through my feed, like, reply, and stay engaged.

Because in the end, whether you’ve got a hundred followers or ten thousand, the engagement part is crucial. I’ve been guilty of letting things go. Because I’m busy. Or because I’m traveling. Or because I feel like I don’t have much to say. Twitter. This blog. My facebook page. Then after months away, I’ll put new content into the universe, pull up a stool and a cup of coffee and …

If You Fill It They’ll Come … Eventually …

Right. We’re back to the birds again. If I want to grow the population that frequents my feeder, it’s not enough to just put my seeds out there. It requires time. I have to show up every day, with my high-quality food and wait. I have to show the birds I’m worth their time again. I have to be in it for them, and not just myself.

And the eventual reward? Just seeing them. Being graced by their beauty. Hearing their songs. And maybe I’ll have to step away again, but if I do, I can’t hold it against the birds when they don’t rush back again after my absence.

By the way, this story has a happy ending. On the last day of January, the squirrels found the feeder again. Then a few days later a blue jay stopped in for a visit.

This morning? Two chickadees.

We’re still a long way off from the days when an entire flock of birds would drain the tube in a matter of hours, but we’ll get there. If I keep showing up. If I’m in it for them. And if I can keep doing that? The birds will be there, singing for me when I need them most.

Share your thoughts! Are you a writer trying to grow an audience on social media? What works for you, and what doesn’t? As a social media consumer, is there one account you follow that always gets it right? That you can’t wait to check up on? Oh, and what is your favorite backyard bird? Let me know in the comments below.

Thanks as always for reading,

Gregory