It's a 'crumby' job, but I'm happy to do it for the love of bird-kind

Now that winter has finally released its stubborn, talon-like grip on Beijing, and spring has truly arrived, love, as they say, is in the air.

And just perhaps I have played matchmaker for some of my winged friends on high.

Lovers, human and otherwise, are often brought together by chance meetings, and birds are no exception.

So, much to my delight, the fifth-floor balcony "cafe "for birds that I opened in October, before Jack Frost set foot in the capital, drew one particularly interesting bird that I had not yet seen in Beijing.

Among the numerous sparrows, which are a delightfully gregarious breed, and the constantly cooing spotted doves, loudly chattering azure-winged magpies and small groups of nuthatches, as well as the much larger, tuxedoed magpies and, just once, a raven the size of a small dog, I spied one morning a truly amusing and unexpected visitor — a red-crowned, sharp-eyed woodpecker.

This single woodpecker began showing up in the coldest clutch of winter, when fierce winds from the north rattled the windows and made it seem impossible that such poorly protected creatures could survive. I assumed, or hoped at least, that my provisions made a difference.

The woodpecker would, upon arrival, bob and weave like Mike Tyson, peeking around the corner of my air conditioner and fixing me with a riveting stare and a comical expression as he checked out the scene. When he settled in to dine, his oversized feet and tree-gripping claws would splay out before him.

Since most of my other fluttering visitors come en masse, or in twos and threes, I began to feel sorry for this colorful loner.

Then, one day a few weeks later, I caught a glimpse at my feeder of a female woodpecker, recognizable for having the same features as the male, except for the blazing red crown.

I never saw the two together, as they arrived at different times to feed, but one day two males showed up simultaneously, so just maybe a rivalry was brewing.

But warmer days then set in, and since birds in springtime have numerous food sources, they don't hang out quite so long at my lofty cafe. As a result, I don't yet know if the woodpeckers are multiplying in my neck of the woods.

Nonetheless, I continue my daily feeding service and keep my eyes open for any newcomers, while greeting the usual morning crowd with a wave, including one plump dove that arrives early, gets a front-row seat and coos to let me know she's ready to dine.

You might well wonder what's on the menu at my popular diner on high. I began last fall with simple hot dog buns that I crumbled when they were properly stale. The sparrows gobbled them up, but the doves seemed unimpressed. So I began to buy croissants by the armload, which have proved more palatable and kept the doves coming back in growing numbers. I also provide heaps of crumbs from multigrain, seed-coated dinner rolls.

Birds are especially vulnerable in the wild, as unless they are birds of prey, they generally have no worthy defense. They must forage for food, usually on the open ground, which makes them easy targets. And when they shelter in place for the winter in northern areas like Beijing, they face a harsh, continuous struggle.

We've all heard the expression "creature comforts", but really, what comforts are available to our winged friends who choose to stay the winter?

From my Beijing window, I've noted some interesting behavior.

First, the birds have widely varying "table" manners while eating. Some are methodical and careful to conserve, while others, seemingly ravenous, gobble recklessly and scatter crumbs with abandon.

I've also noticed a reversal of stereotypes. You might think that the roost would be ruled by the boisterous azure magpies, but not so. It ends up they are terribly jittery, and the arrival of any bird, even one of their own, puts them to flight.

No, the real king of the roost, the breed that's truly unflappable and even aggressive, is the supposedly peaceful dove, which uses the heft it has gained since autumn, thanks to me, to "elbow" other birds, even fellow doves, out of the way.

In addition to possibly playing the matchmaker, maybe I've also created a monster, albeit a softly cooing one.