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.