Every morning, I make coffee, turn my computer on, and open the balcony door and throw out a handful of sunflower seeds for the house finches. There’s a lot of them; sometimes there can be ten or more at any one time. This is the only one I recognise because of the weird thing on top of her beak. She’s also by far the bravest of the finches. She doesn’t fly away when I stand up (my desk is near the door). She often perches on the metal bar on the balcony and looks straight ahead at the apartment. This, it would seem, is her way of telling me there’s nothing but empty seed shells on the balcony. She’s an ugly bugger, but she’s my favourite. I call her Bullet.