It's official: I love birds.

Starting out childhood alongside big dogs, cats and the occasional feisty fish, I always loved animals, but birds never really caught my attention. I enjoyed watching the robins through my parents' big picture frame window and seeing their worm-hunting hops on the lawn on wet spring mornings, or the way they'd gather in cacophonous joy to devour the fermenting mountain ash berries that had collected on the grass of the front yard each autumn.

Their sounds were always pleasant, their idiosyncrasies often comical.

The works of Edgar Allan Poe — specifically, yes, "The Raven" — read at a young age alerted me to the Corvidae family, packed to the beaks with highly intelligent birds including the black-billed magpies that playfully taunted our family dogs by working together to distract them and swoop in to steal their kibble. In college, I was introduced to Linda Haupt's book, "Crow Planet: Essential Wisdom from the Urban Wilderness," which made me more closely examine the intellect and personality of those small, dark cawing creatures of the corvid variety.

And while some refined their baking skills during COVID, I discovered Cornell University's Merlin Bird ID phone app, which has taken my relationship with feathered friends to a whole new level. The app includes a spectrogram so you can record a birds' calls and actually see the pitches of their different sounds. Certain birds have incredibly consistent patterns, so one could almost just read the spectrogram without hearing anything and know which bird they are hearing. The bird ID tells you what you're hearing, though, so no super ornithological knowledge is necessary to enjoy it. It's always exciting to capture a new bird, like a Northern goshawk that is trumpeting in a towering tree above your head or a skitter bird you didn't even know was frequenting your feeders.

Our Post Falls backyard has recently been a favorite haunt of an American goldfinch pair. They visit the bird bath, zip from tree to tree together and keep an eye out for each other. The male's bright yellow and black are gorgeous, and their companionship is heart-melting.

My best friend recently got me a Kadymay bird feeder with a camera so I can see these little friends up close. I dubbed it the "Birb Fascination Station." Yes, "birb." It's a term of endearment coined on the internet and I can't stop saying it.

So I finally installed the fascination station on my Pacific maple next to the bird bath and within a few days, we had visitors. On the morning of Aug. 5, a stunning crimson male house finch gifted us with the feeder's first good bird selfie.

And those birb selfies have only gotten better.

The goldfinches haven't been around much the past week or so, but the house finches have been digging into the seed in the feeder. The motion capture images of them are adorable and hilarious — sometimes they look like they're really having a tough time deciding where they want to dip their beaks, other images crack me up as the birds look like they're caught off-guard with a mouthful of food. I think they like to see their reflection in the camera lens too. You can also watch the live feed or pay for the subscription, which I will probably do next spring when I have more baths and feeders for our little guests.

I told a friend about my newfound obsession, and he gifted me with glorious images of hummingbirds that were captured by his feeder in Hayden. What a treasure to see these little speedsters up close.

Thank you, technology, for giving us the ability to have closer relationships and even further appreciate the personalities of our avian visitors.

Now to find a way to invite squirrels into the mix ...

    A male house finch enjoys a seed Aug. 7.
  

    This hummingbird friend enjoys a photo op at a camera feeder in Hayden.
  

    The American goldfinch couple is so sweet!
  

    Caught on camera with seeds in their mouths!
  

    This black-chinned hummingbird with a striking purple band on its chest has been caught on camera visiting a feeder in Hayden.