I tried to take time for myself today. I ended up hemming Mike's pants, doing dishes, helping Nick with his math, taking down the garbage and recyclables. I even filled the yard waste bin. I did manage to wash the fabric I needed for the back of a quilt, but that is all. My sewing room feels a bit neglected. I need more time there to piece things together. Nick wants a red and black dragon quilt with a very soft red backing. I could imagine him snuggled up in such a quilt on the couch.
This morning, I noticed that a bird is building a nest on the corner of my house. I'm not particularly in favor of this idea. Does it damage the paint? Will it open up spaces which can let in mice? I know I won't pull it down. Last year, Robins raised fledglings in a nest they borrowed, one that was balanced on the gutter. Someone told me that it was probably a pair of Varied Thrush that had built it the year before. I remember them flying back and forth across those windows, singing their single note song. This was a sturdy nest made of moss and mud. I'm sorry now that I took it down after the Robins were done with it.
I'm surprised that this bird is moving ahead with her plan despite the presence of a human and a dog four or five times underneath her construction site each day. This is the place where we bring Teddy out to do his business. As I waited for the dog, this tiny bird pulled at twigs and flitted from twig to twig about six or seven feet away. Teddy was oblivious to her movements. He certainly isn't a bird dog.
I tried to find this bird in my Audubon bird books, but I'm afraid I wasn't paying close enough attention to her details. I like comparing my memory of her to each picture in the book. Did she have a yellow ring around her eyes like a Nashville Warbler? She was smaller than a Chickadee and had warm brown feathers rather than gray. That leaves off the Bushtit, a Bell's Vireo, and a Verdin. Excuse me, may I measure you from tip to tail? She was too small to be a Wrentit, though her silhouette seemed to fit that round shape. I remember she was a soft brown above but had a little plaid below, but still the same tone of brown, on her very round belly. I don't remember her having a long tail. She wasn't thin enough to be a House Wren, nor did she have a striking striped tail. I don't remember an eyebrow stripe, so I didn't see her as a Winter Wren or Bewick's Wren. The sparrows pictured seem sleeker and had mottled white and brown feathers. No, there is no picture in my books that is quite like my tiny brown bird.
My brother-in-law is very good at identifying birds. I could ask him. Yet, have you ever known that you want to know a little more about a subject without wanting to be an expert? Have you ever asked an expert then, and found that you are overwhelmed by the further questions, by the implication that you should know the answer already? No, I'm not going to ask my brother-in-law, no matter how smart he is. It would ruin my experience.
See, it is a gift to be allowed to see fledglings learn to fly, as I have done for years with our Stellar's Jays and Robins. It is a gift to watch them clamoring for food in the nest, like the swallow in the eaves of the porch at the CSA farm. And today, as I watched this tiny little bird gather twigs for her nest, it is a gift yet again. I hold these birds dear to my heart. I won't bring a cage of them into my house, but the ones that make their home near my home are my birds, like cheerful outdoor family members. I've been told I shouldn't feed them, but when it snow, I put out peanut butter instead of worrying. I try to keep a brick of suet for them with cayenne pepper so the mammals won't eat it.
As I was cleaning up my sewing room and pulling out my new fabric, warm from the dryer, I realized that I wanted to see if I could help this bird line her nest. None of us has long hair to bother emptying our brushes and combs. I could put the cat's fur outside after I brush them, but would a bird use material from a predator? So, instead, I found some tiny pieces of scraps and threads in my basket, pieces I had once used to line the hamster's nest. I took that, along with some dryer lint and put it outside in the bush where I saw my tiny round bird foraging for nesting material. Will she use my colorful scraps? Nick thinks she'll use anything, even cat fur. I'm not sure she'll even touch anything I put outside. Nick, in fact, thinks that this bird is the male and that he's going to make a pretty nest to attract a nice girl bird. Now that is a very sweet idea for an eleven-year-old boy to have. I have read about this with a species of bird, but I have no true idea about my tiny brown bird.
It's funny how I imagine a mother building her nest, and Nick sees a father building a home. We see what we want to see, don't we? Now that I know it's there, I hope I can watch this nest being built without ruining it with my predator eyes. I remember how disturbed the Stellar's Jay was when I started watching her babies too closely. I hope to see the bright colors from my finished quilts intertwined with the twigs. I hope to see puffs of dryer lint and cat hair and thread. It would feel like art then, as if I'd had a hand in making it. Even if the pieces aren't used, it's nice to think of our attached homes, of her listening to me feed my fledgling as he clamors for more. It's nice to think of us listening to each other's song. It's nice to think of us living side by side in harmony.
Thank you for listening, jb
This morning, I noticed that a bird is building a nest on the corner of my house. I'm not particularly in favor of this idea. Does it damage the paint? Will it open up spaces which can let in mice? I know I won't pull it down. Last year, Robins raised fledglings in a nest they borrowed, one that was balanced on the gutter. Someone told me that it was probably a pair of Varied Thrush that had built it the year before. I remember them flying back and forth across those windows, singing their single note song. This was a sturdy nest made of moss and mud. I'm sorry now that I took it down after the Robins were done with it.
I'm surprised that this bird is moving ahead with her plan despite the presence of a human and a dog four or five times underneath her construction site each day. This is the place where we bring Teddy out to do his business. As I waited for the dog, this tiny bird pulled at twigs and flitted from twig to twig about six or seven feet away. Teddy was oblivious to her movements. He certainly isn't a bird dog.
I tried to find this bird in my Audubon bird books, but I'm afraid I wasn't paying close enough attention to her details. I like comparing my memory of her to each picture in the book. Did she have a yellow ring around her eyes like a Nashville Warbler? She was smaller than a Chickadee and had warm brown feathers rather than gray. That leaves off the Bushtit, a Bell's Vireo, and a Verdin. Excuse me, may I measure you from tip to tail? She was too small to be a Wrentit, though her silhouette seemed to fit that round shape. I remember she was a soft brown above but had a little plaid below, but still the same tone of brown, on her very round belly. I don't remember her having a long tail. She wasn't thin enough to be a House Wren, nor did she have a striking striped tail. I don't remember an eyebrow stripe, so I didn't see her as a Winter Wren or Bewick's Wren. The sparrows pictured seem sleeker and had mottled white and brown feathers. No, there is no picture in my books that is quite like my tiny brown bird.
My brother-in-law is very good at identifying birds. I could ask him. Yet, have you ever known that you want to know a little more about a subject without wanting to be an expert? Have you ever asked an expert then, and found that you are overwhelmed by the further questions, by the implication that you should know the answer already? No, I'm not going to ask my brother-in-law, no matter how smart he is. It would ruin my experience.
See, it is a gift to be allowed to see fledglings learn to fly, as I have done for years with our Stellar's Jays and Robins. It is a gift to watch them clamoring for food in the nest, like the swallow in the eaves of the porch at the CSA farm. And today, as I watched this tiny little bird gather twigs for her nest, it is a gift yet again. I hold these birds dear to my heart. I won't bring a cage of them into my house, but the ones that make their home near my home are my birds, like cheerful outdoor family members. I've been told I shouldn't feed them, but when it snow, I put out peanut butter instead of worrying. I try to keep a brick of suet for them with cayenne pepper so the mammals won't eat it.
As I was cleaning up my sewing room and pulling out my new fabric, warm from the dryer, I realized that I wanted to see if I could help this bird line her nest. None of us has long hair to bother emptying our brushes and combs. I could put the cat's fur outside after I brush them, but would a bird use material from a predator? So, instead, I found some tiny pieces of scraps and threads in my basket, pieces I had once used to line the hamster's nest. I took that, along with some dryer lint and put it outside in the bush where I saw my tiny round bird foraging for nesting material. Will she use my colorful scraps? Nick thinks she'll use anything, even cat fur. I'm not sure she'll even touch anything I put outside. Nick, in fact, thinks that this bird is the male and that he's going to make a pretty nest to attract a nice girl bird. Now that is a very sweet idea for an eleven-year-old boy to have. I have read about this with a species of bird, but I have no true idea about my tiny brown bird.
It's funny how I imagine a mother building her nest, and Nick sees a father building a home. We see what we want to see, don't we? Now that I know it's there, I hope I can watch this nest being built without ruining it with my predator eyes. I remember how disturbed the Stellar's Jay was when I started watching her babies too closely. I hope to see the bright colors from my finished quilts intertwined with the twigs. I hope to see puffs of dryer lint and cat hair and thread. It would feel like art then, as if I'd had a hand in making it. Even if the pieces aren't used, it's nice to think of our attached homes, of her listening to me feed my fledgling as he clamors for more. It's nice to think of us listening to each other's song. It's nice to think of us living side by side in harmony.
Thank you for listening, jb
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