After spending 6 hours watching the seed at the Harris's Sparrow spot north of the Troutdale airport. I heard a little ruckus down in the blackberries. I tip-toed over and looked down at the noise.
Tucked in a sheltered nook in the berry patch was a couple couches, a small coffee table with a bowl of popcorn on it, and a tiny TV with the Superbowl on. There were fox, song, Lincoln, golden-crowned sparrows, and a towhee, partying. Being birds, they were rooting for the Eagles. I got a glimpse of one bird, sitting on the floor at the other end of the couch, a shy gal, half hidden. Might have been the Harris's.