I’ve loved birds ever since I watched over a nest of robin eggs hatching from a precarious spot just outside my attic bedroom window when I was a kid. Back then maybe I could relate to wee creatures coming into the world and having to deal with the rigors of life. I remember it wasn’t always easy for me.
I can remember one time, too -- after watching a Woody Woodpecker cartoon on afternoon tv -- trying to capture a bird in the side yard by pouring salt on its tail. It did seem a bit ridiculous, but it was on the Woody show after all and, well, I figured it was worth a try. Didn’t work, though.
There are a few species of birds I seem to have a richer relationship with than others. Whenever I spot a great blue heron either flying or standing in a local river bed, I figure I’ve earned a little good luck for the day.
In the spring, I know we’ve survived the winter when I hear the descending spiral ‘flute’ of the Swainson’s thrush as it sings on its way to more northern woodlands. I hear this lovely song for a couple of weeks before their migration is over in this part of the flyway.
For me lately, though, I’d have to pick the Carolina wren as my favorite ‘yard bird.‘ Such a great little critter with such a big voice!
We’ve had a few birdhouses posted at our Wild Grace homestead for years now, but they don’t get nesting customers every year. Male Carolina wrens, I have learned, build a number of nests and then let the female pick the one she feels best about. We’ve seen a few wren nests about, one even in a small open drawer in the garage. All have been made beautifully out of lacy leaves and mosses, but few have been populated.
Well, this spring, Ms. Carolina picked the bird box just off our front porch. It was fun watching mom and dad haul in food and haul out the bad stuff. One of the two would sing loudly as the other approached the box. Maybe the song got the little ones’ digestive juices going in anticipation. Maybe the folks were just plain proud of their kids. Don’t know, but it was fun to watch and listen.
Around Memorial Day when we thought the young wrens were about ready to fledge, I noticed a young face at the bird box opening looking out. It shifted from time to time, seemingly just trying to figure out what was expected next. We sat on the porch for some time watching and waiting for that moment of truth, but we missed it. That evening I took a peek inside the box and saw three beautiful little heads still there, each with that bright white eye bar. By the next evening, the box was empty of little ones.
I love the hummingbirds that fight over the sweetwater on the back porch. I love the stark black and yellow of American goldfinches who still visit the thistle feeder. I rather enjoy watching robins splash around in the bird bath out back.
But this year, I’m really appreciating the beauty of the Carolina wren family who graced us with staying at our place. All the best out there, kids! ;-)
Today’s elder idea: Tweedaddle, tweedaddle, tweedaddle, tweet
The morning message of carolina wrens as heard from our bedroom window.
Image: Carolina wren by Laura Meyers (2010) / http://www.laurameyers.com
Used without permission.
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