Peter Fenske, a life long resident of Ridgefield Park, has had a garden since he was 5 years old. So when he moved into his new house on Poplar Street several years ago, Fenske tore up a 12 by 30 foot patch of ivy which had been planted in his back yard and designated that plot of land as his new vegetable garden.

When it comes time to prepare the ground for spring planting, Fenske follows a relatively simple formula. In the fall, he collects the discarded bales of hay used by village residents to decorate their lawns at Halloween. Fenske saves the discarded bales, all winter and roto-tills the hay into his garden. His friend Thomas Ooms owns a landscaping company and also provides Fenske with grass clippings to enrich the soil. Throw in a little commercial fertilizer and the garden is good to go.

This spring, just as he does every year in early May, Fenske planted tomatoes, cucumbers, Swiss chard and string beans. After a few weeks, tiny shoots began to poke through the soil. The vegetables were coming along nicely but Fenske noticed something else had taken root in his garden: wild sunflowers; lots of them. But rather than pull them out, he decided to leave them in place to see what would happen.

Growing at a rate of about six inches a week, the sunflowers soon began to dominate the landscape. By late June, the vegetables Fenske had planted were barely visible. The garden was a riot of green and gold with about 30 sunflowers; most of them over 6 feet tall. The thicket was so dense; it was difficult to see from one end of the garden to the other.

"Tommy Ooms asked me if I wanted any more grass clippings. I told him ‘No thanks, the garden’s in charge of me this year,’" Fenske quipped.

So where did the sunflowers come from?

Fenske made a mental list of the organic materials he blended into the soil and realized he had added one extra ingredient this year. Fenske had saved the droppings from the bottom of his bird cages and used them to fortify the soil.

"Then," Fenske said, "I put two and two together." Fenske feeds his pet birds, a parrot named "Paco" and a cockatiel dubbed "Chop" a variety of seeds, including sunflower seeds.

Paco and Chop are well fed but they don’t always clean their plates. Apparently, a number of sunflower seeds went uneaten. And anyone who has ever seen the floor of a bird cage knows that the occupant is not a good housekeeper. In this case, Fenske believes, the seeds got mixed in with the bird droppings resulting in his garden surprise. Further evidence to support this theory is the abundance of spray millet, another birdie treat that can be seen scattered among the other plants.

By late July, most of the flowers had withered and died. Only their stems remained standing like sentinels keeping watch over the garden. Will there be another batch next year?

The answer to that question may lie with Paco and Chop. But they aren’t talking.