You have to wonder about the first bird that flew inside the Lowe's on Naples Blvd., looked around the big-box store, stroked his little bird chin and said, "Oh, yeah. This is for me." Sure, maybe it was an accident, but you've got to give him credit for having the forethought to stick around.

Inside Lowe's, it's a constant, temperate climate. It never rains or gets too hot. There's an endless supply of seeds over in Aisle 23, and the warehouse-style exposed steel rafters provide plenty of places for perching.

Word was bound to get around to other birds, and tweet-tweet, flutter-flutter, Lowe's has gotten a lot more interesting.

From the opening swoosh of the electric doors, there's more than cool air-conditioning greeting customers. There's swooping and birdsong overhead, a lovely little twitter for folks stopping by for nails or lawn mowers or utility sinks.

"It's kinda neat," Jeff Kreamer says as he pushes his shopping cart under a pair of male and female house sparrows building a nest in the rafters above 1A. "I see them flying and chirping every time I come in here," he says without missing a step.

That's how you can tell the repeat customers from the novices. Those entering Lowe's for the first time tend to stop and look up, frequently with jaws agape. The birds flock near the front doors and along Aisle 23 where Lowe's keeps the plastic bags of birdseed.

A pair of doves proves the exception to the rule, eschewing the seed buffet on a recent afternoon for the lighting department, perhaps longing for the street lights of their youth. (A later, closer inspection reveals an assortment of small Zen water fountains nearby.)

Activity in Aisle 23 is brisk. Perched on the rafters above, a cluster of house sparrows watch shoppers stroll past ears of dried corn and sunflower seeds, waiting for the humans to clear the row. Then they send in the sentry.

Two females land on the floor, hop-hopping down the lane side-by-side like soldiers patrolling an empty city block. All's clear. Almost immediately a male lights on a cardboard display box of sumptuous seed. He cranes his little gray-capped head around and a bevy of females joins him before disappearing into the display box while he stands guard.

They scatter as soon as another shopper heads down the aisle. A later inspection of the display reveals a tiny little hole barely bigger than a pinprick in the top sack of birdseed.

Eddie Rozman, an employee in the lawn and garden center, says that, yes, they do tend to break into the bird seed. But the tiny holes the birds make are nothing compared to the big gouges that customers create.

"People think they're helping (by tearing holes)," he says, shaking his head. "They do fine on their own."

In fact, the birds' holes are so tiny ? they're almost invisible ? the seeds don't spill out and the bags can still be sold to customers.

Thirst inevitably follows hunger, and after feasting there's the matter of beverages to procure.

"They go outside for water," Rozman explains, pointing to the electric doors leading to the outdoor garden center. He says the birds have learned to hang out in the rafters near the doors until humans trigger the electronic eye that swooshes open the doors. Then they slip out.

"If you hang around here long enough, they flutter around in front and wait for the door to open," Rozman says. "I've seen them flutter in front of the electric eye and zoom!" he says with a hand motion that looks like a plane taking off.

"They're smarter than you think," he explains.

"They're really quite clever," confirms Steve Carbol, environmental education manager for the Conservancy of Southwest Florida.

Sitting at a picnic table in the outdoor garden center looking toward the doors that lead into Lowe's, he studies the sparrows.

"They've been closely associated with people for thousands of years," he says, explaining why the birds would choose to live in Lowe's rather than in the woods. House sparrows have always preferred to live right next to humans, building nests in the eaves of houses. But with the proliferation of big-box retailers like Lowe's and Home Depot, they've sort of hit the jackpot ? and are taking up residence in stores like this one all across the country.

"They've just adapted to new conditions," Carbol says. As he speaks, a female flits by, swooping left to right, just above the doors. Nothing happens and she crosses back, again, just above the doors. She repeats this a few times before giving up and landing on an overhead pipe to wait.

Minutes later a customer approaches and the bird slips in.

"It's just the next step in their living with us," Carbol says.

Then another house sparrow appears with something in her mouth. "A katydid," Carbol points out, without raising his binoculars. This bird has it figured out. She flies in front of the doors, making swoops like the first bird, but slightly lower, right in front of the electronic eye. One, two, and swoosh, the doors open and she takes the bug prize in to waiting offspring.

It's hard to believe a bird with a brain the size of a pebble has mastered motion-detector technology.

"They're tenacious, adaptable, smart, little animals that have learned to take advantage of us," Carbol muses, fully appreciating the moment. "It's disconcerting the way they use our technology against us."

And since the birds have figured out how to get in and out at will, and since there's water nearby ? including a cluster of large water fountains in the garden center just perfect for bird bathing ? it's not that easy to get rid of them.

Lowe's corporate spokeswoman Karen Cobb says the company's policy is to live and let live. "We only take action to catch and release whenever there are complaints from customers," she says.

"We realize with having our open lawn and garden centers," Cobb says, "they'll be attracted to that." So since they sort of lure the birds in, Cobb doesn't seem inclined to punish them for knowing a good thing when they see it. "We peacefully co-exist."

If someone were to complain, Cobb says, they'd hire a pest-control company to trap birds that become a nuisance and move them 60 miles away. There are horror stories about other big-box retailers around the country using glue traps to kill birds.

Given the phenomena of birds taking up residence in big-box stores all across the country, what's surprising isn't that birds are living in Lowe's in Naples, but that they aren't living at any of the Home Depot stores in Naples or Bonita Springs.

Just a couple flaps of the wing from Naples' Lowe's ? that's about a half-mile for you and me ? is the Home Depot on Pine Ridge Road. Walk in that store and it's conspicuously quiet. Not a peep or twitter. Assistant Manager Brian Hollenbeck says they're not doing anything to the birds. They just aren't choosing to live there.

Hollenbeck says in the five years he's worked for Home Depot in Southwest Florida, he's seen only a couple come through his doors. "Usually one or two have a nest and then leave." He says he has no idea why they haven't taken up permanent residence there.

Maybe it's the music playing in the background. While the house sparrows and doves enjoy living in close quarters with humans, perhaps it's possible they just don't care for our taste in music.

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