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So I got a birdhouse. I had no idea what I was getting into. How the family of bird squatters would become part of ours. How our deck was a no go zone for 2 months. How much it hurt me when I discovered they’d learned to fly when I wasn’t here, and left with no goodbye.
I’m not a fan of a whole lot of being relied on. I can’t take the responsibility of a hummingbird feeder, for example. And the birds I feed know I’m a last resort stop on their winter feeder treks. I actually wanted the candleholders this particular birdhouse came with, but found it cute, and hung it in the back on the burning bush (that’s its scientific name – it wasn’t actually on fire) as a decor item, never expecting anyone to find it suitable, as it was made in China and cost me one dollar.
The chickadees came first, they’re so adorable, but they always look angry with their little black hats. They tried to move in, but the hole wasn’t big enough. I watched for 3 days while the couple took turns trying to chip away the wood around the opening. I felt so bad, like they got their hopes all up on this great real estate, and wasted their time trying to remodel.
Then came the wrens. I’ve never really seen a wren, I guess. I was in love with them at first sight. They are tiny, like the missing link between hummingbirds and regular birds. They have long skinny beaks, and very intricately striped feathers. They do a lot of fluttering/buzzing of their wings too – like when they’re trying to scare off others, or when they’re mad/excited, etc. I was fascinated.
If any of us went on the deck, we’d be scolded. The mom did most of the scolding, the Dad would do the fly bys. They scolded the dog regularly. I was impressed by the amount of work those two birds put in. They built a perfect little nest inside the house, fed each other when one was sitting on the eggs/babies, and then fed the babies every 15 minutes (both parents). Reminds me of my kids in the summer. They’re always hungry!
One day a baby stuck his lil head out of the hole and I was so excited! I felt like a proud grandmother or something! So I went to get a closer look and the mom came out of nowhere and started yelling at us both. The baby ducked and hid, and I went inside.
I knew the time would come when the tiny birds and their even tinier babies would leave, but I pictured it as me being a spectator, as the babies emerged and took their first ‘flit’ – but, alas, it happened when we were either gone, or all sleeping off the crazy week we had had. I didn’t cry when I realized it, but I was very sad. Then there’s the worry – like did a stray cat eat them all? I searched for clues – a feather, a beak, nothing was found. This gave me hope. Then, as I listened and discerned each bird sound, I isolated the nagging mommy bird. She and her babies were up in the pine tree, and the two babies were taking turns flitting from branch to branch. They’re way too high up for me to see their tiny faces and remaining baby feathers, but I know they’re safe.
An interesting fact about wrens is that the father is the only one who sings – and it is a beautiful song, that tiny little 1.5 inch bird sings better than any other of our “regulars”.
So I’m hooked. I hope the wrens come back, and I’ll get a couple more birdhouses for the babies next spring. I’d really like to be able to see inside , I may put in a skylight in the next birdhouse.
Though my drama lasagna has many layers, most because of my pre-adolescent daughter, others because it is apparent that I’m in a cosmic reality show (like Truman), and still others because my brain is slightly off kilter, bird drama is a welcomed layer.
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