"When the cat is in, it wants to be out; when the cat is out, it wants to be in," goes the complaint. But we're not much different.
The spring comes and we cut the flowers from the outside garden, and put them in a vase on the table. Then we go outside and plant flowers in a pot that sits on the patio.
The patio, of course, is the place we can sit at a table and eat breakfast, and still be outside.
But then we have our cars, which allow us to be inside while we're moving around outside. Unless you have Amy's Dad's convertible, in which case you can be outside while you're driving around outside, unless you put the top up, in which case you're inside outside again.
All this silliness actually points at something true about our lives: we like to be comfortable, and we have the accumulated knowledge and wealth to keep ourselves comfortable even when we're outside. Some part of us remains connected to the primitive ancestor who lived wild; we appreciate his flowers, and are happy to bring them into our comfortable abode.
Presumably the birds appreciate our beginning to do the same for them?
