"We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike." ~Maya Angelou

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

Acts of Nature



    The Wren family set up housekeeping in the corner of the porch ceiling.  I had hoped this would happen. (cue the music) I had imagined I would hear their beautiful trilling songs morning and evening. They would not mind my presence.
       It has not turned out exactly that way. As a matter of fact, now that their brief courtship is over, eggs have been laid and hatched, the wrens spend most of their time berating me for being in their space. (Their space? ) And by the way, stereo scolding is not melodious in the least. The cats sit crouched on the porch chairs, bitter at being taunted by such tiny foes.  The wrens, no doubt, knew how high the cats could jump before they began constructing the nest.
      For several days I noticed the adults zipping to the nest and back but saw no evidence of little ones. But a few days ago I noticed two tiny little stickiups showing over the rim. Upon closer inspection, through the binoculars, these proved to be tiny bills patiently awaiting food. Birdie babies, how nice for all of us. I still get scolded every time I try to sit at the round table, but now there are faint chirps behind me.
      Choosing to nest under the wide ceiling has saddled the wrens with a weakness.  When they leave the nest they must first fly down toward the porch before flying out and up into clear air. Last evening we were visited by a violent summer thunderstorm; high winds accompanied by pounding waves of rain. This morning I noticed a small feather stuck in a bloody smudge on the porch floor. The cats are immensely patient.
   

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