Birds Don’t Even Like Bread

Birds don’t even like bread. Well, maybe they do. But bread isn’t something they are supposed to eat. From a nutrition standpoint, bread does nothing for birds looking to fuel up for their long flights. It is calories yes, but in the same sense that gummy bears are calories for humans.

Not all birds migrate. But those that do, migrate in search of food and abundant nesting grounds. When winter pushes their food supplies dormant, birds fly south. Like butterflies, their migration patterns help bring balance to our ecosystems. When we put our breadcrumbs and slices on our lawns, we might be lulling migratory birds into a false sense of security in their food supply. Content in their environment, a bird may decide to cancel its flight.

For the birds that don’t migrate, information on what to put in bird feeders is readily available. So is information on the seasons when bird food supplies are the most limited, and when you shouldn’t worry about keeping a feeder full. It takes less than two minutes to learn that bread is not one of the recommended food items to leave in feeders.

And yet, we feed birds bread. Especially stale bread, and bread with mold spots that are poisonous to birds. We feed deer too. And some of us probably leave food out for bears, wolves and larger wildlife. Just so we can see them. Without any thought to the consequences of our actions.

We see the signs posted, warning us not to feed the wildlife. But we ignore them. Why? It is certainly not to be malicious. Maybe we can admit it’s selfish; that we want to see the wildlife up close, and it’s only this one time we are ignoring the rules. With our best intentions, we convince ourselves that we are being helpful.

But we aren’t being helpful. We are actually causing harm, because we aren’t stopping to figure out how we can help better. We think wanting to be helpful is enough. So we choose the way most convenient for us. And because we have good intentions, we believe our actions should be appreciated.

I believe there are two kinds of people that leave out bread for birds to eat. One kind of person genuinely wants to help feed birds and buys fresh loaves to do so. The other kind of person didn’t realize their bread was going bad, and they feel better about throwing it on their front lawn than into the garbage. Neither is a person who has taken the five minutes to educate themselves on how and what they should feed birds.

Both kinds of people have good intentions, with varying levels of self-serving motivations. But isn’t that always true? Every time we offer to help, no matter the circumstances, we have good intentions. And those good intentions are, at minimum, tinged with our selfish desires. We help because it makes us feel good. Or we help because we’ll get recognition for our kindness.

Maybe you already know that birds shouldn’t eat bread, and you feed them bread anyway. You do it because the birds look hungry, and you reason that it can’t be that bad for them. You ignore information that doesn’t match what you believe so you can keep helping birds in the way that you want to help them. It makes me wonder how often we all disregard facts so we can cling to our convictions, and our more convenient ways of helping.

We want to help the environment, so we do a better job of putting things into the recycle bin. But we never bother to learn what is or isn’t recyclable curbside in our neighborhood. Instead, we just feel good about our increased environmental awareness, without ever realizing that those greasy pizza boxes and plastic bags risk contaminating every truckload of recyclables.

We need to clean out our closet, so we get some bags together to donate to the local homeless shelter. We fill our bags with old dress shirts, too-small jeans, grungy t-shirts and maybe that sequin-covered tank top. When we drop off our bags, we feel good that we helped those in need. But we never called the shelter, so we don’t know that everything we just donated they now need to donate somewhere else. We get to feel good about our helping actions while the shelter continues to not have enough coats and clean packages of socks, underwear and undershirts to help their residents.

Our intentions are good, but they are also convenient. They work for us, but maybe not others. And we ignore that fact, because it’s easier. How often do we miss the chance to be genuinely helpful? All because we didn’t take a moment to pause and ask how we can help better. When we reframe it, the question itself only takes on one extra word. But the impact of one word is so much better.