Our house has become big fans of the orioles. And the blue jays. And the cardinals. No, I’m not talking about the baseball teams.

Although, I have to say, I sometimes find our new hobby just about as unexciting as I find a baseball game, my kids are completely invested in bird-watching.

Of course, G has had his chicken hobby for almost a year now, and he recently spent some of his hard-earned egg money to add several new exotic species to his flock. They’re not scheduled to arrive until August, so he had to do something to pass the time until then. We’d had an old bird feeder on a lonely post in the front yard. A few months ago, on a whim, the kids asked if we could put some bird seed in it. We filled it up and there it sat, untouched all winter long.

I found it hard to believe we didn’t have any hungry feathered friends around, but at the same time, having a few more mouths to feed wasn’t exactly a priority for me, so I didn’t get too upset about it.

As the weather started to get nicer, and as we had lots of time on our hands, the Wonderful Husband and the kids started landscaping an unruly bank behind the house.

Determined to do it on a budget, and keep it looking semi-natural, the WH had the boys dig up some larger rocks that tend to be an annoyance when mowing. He’d had the foresight to plant some bulbs and other perennials in strategic areas, and we added a few bushes earlier in the year. As we’ve been cleaning out the basement and other corners, we’ve found old lawn ornaments, including a bird bath.

The kids were quite excited to add the bird bath to the scenery and helped create a little plateau for it to rest on evenly. As long back as I can remember, I can’t think of a single time that I ever saw a bird use the birdbath, but who was I to dampen their enthusiasm?

G remembered the semi-abandoned bird feeder and quickly relocated it to his new backyard oasis. I just rolled my eyes, and wondered how stale the seed could be, or if it had started to sprout with the warm weather. So, I had to eat a little crow when, in a few days, I was standing washing dishes and I looked out and saw a bluebird perched on the feeder.

Although I was sure it was just a fluke, I called for the kids to come see. Since they did that about as quietly as a herd of elephants, the bird quickly flew away, and I was left to wonder if I had been seeing things. Just a day or two later, though, my suspicions were confirmed. The WH, who had conveniently located his home office with a direct view of the feeder, loudly whispered to take a look at some yellow bird out there. Sure enough, we had goldfinches.

With the arrival of the goldfinches, the dam burst. We soon had birds of every shape and size and color. A few of them were even into the dine and scrub system that G had set up. Before I knew it, we were all huddling around the window watching for new species and trying to identify the current visitors. Having Google makes that a lot easier than flipping through the old Audubon guide like we used to do.

Pretty soon, a pair of cardinals showed up. One day I looked out to find a pileated woodpecker that was almost as big as the entire feeder hanging on precariously. We’ve been hearing him in action for several weeks, but to see him up close was just phenomenal. I tracked him with my camera lens to the old apple tree where he paused to take a few pecks.

About this time, someone else discovered the bird feeder, too. Originally known as Jimmy, our little furry squirrel friend soon worked his way up to Fat Jimmy. I know you’re not supposed to let the squirrels eat the bird food, and millions of dollars have been spent designing feeders to keep the rodents out, but Jimmy’s antics were too enjoyable to discourage.

First of all, watching him work his way up the pole was a riot. The few mornings that we still had a frost, he couldn’t gain any purchase and had to skulk around the base until the sun came up enough to warm it up. Once he made it up the pole, he had to make the precarious stretch to reach the feeder.

Since it was on a slight angle, if he didn’t catch it with the first stretch, he would push it out of his reach. Then, he would have to wait until it stopped swinging to grab it again. Occasionally, he grabbed it and the momentum pulled him off the base, and he was stuck swinging with the feeder, madly grasping for something with his hind legs. After all that, I couldn’t deny him a few mouthfuls of seed. The birds didn’t seem to mind him either, just jumping on the other side of the feeder.

Pretty soon, it was clear, we needed another feeder. Our next stop at the feed store found me buying chicken food, and several varieties of bird seed, hopefully the right combinations to attract even more birds.

The one morning, as I was in my bathroom taking care of my morning ablutions, G came flying in, screaming excitedly. “Mom, you have to see this bird, it’s black and white and has a red chest,” he chattered. “Sounds like a robin to me,” I said, not quite as excited as he was. I got the infamous G eyeroll. “Mom, I know what a robin is, and this is no robin.”

No, it was actually a rose-breasted grosbeak. Quite a handsome little fellow. Not to be outdone, an electric blue indigo bunting just minutes later. Later in the afternoon, we all crowded around the binoculars trying to figure out what the orange flicker in the apple tree was, and were delighted to discover that it was the brilliant chest of an oriole.

Once again, the change in pace of our lives has paid off in an unexpected manner, both to our benefit and the birds’. While I certainly miss watching my own boys of summer racing around the bases right now, and I’m still holding out hope that we will get some kind of Little League season in, for now, we will have to settle for watching the cardinals versus the blue jays in the bird bath.

Liz Pinkey is a contributing writer to the Times News. Her column appears weekly in our Saturday feature section.