Nature in the City

Sitting on my front porch this afternoon grading papers, I took great joy watching a silly bird trying to build a nest in three different places. From looking it up, I would guess that it's a Carolina Wren. But it could be any kind of wren. It has a loud, musical call and did not seem to mind flitting closer and closer to me.

We have two Black-Eyed Susan hanging plants on the front porch and Earl recently attached a bird house to a nearby tree.

This little bird, with a sharp beak and long tail, flew into both plants carrying sticks and leaves. He also stuck his head into the bird house and looked all around before discarding that idea. Luckily, for the black-capped chickadee, who actually went in the birdhouse to see if he could fit. He's a little chubbier.
The weather, at 81 degrees, is perfect and in the garden along the front of the house below me, I could see peeks of pink zinnias and purple asters along with a strand of purple delphinium.

The colors and the birds helped make the afternoon of grading papers much more pleasant.

Later in the day, the cat realizes birds are building a nest on his front porch. He is quite perturbed.

Blue Jay Adventures

Earl and I were sitting on the front porch when we saw a fledgling blue jay flop into the street. The parents screeched down urgently. Some other blue jay relatives flew down also screeching. A cardinal landed nearby and a robin added its trill too. All urging the baby blue jay to fly, to get out of the middle of the street.
As the birds flew back to the tree, the baby blue jay flopped around some more.
Earl pulled on his shoes.
"Don't go down there," I warned. "They'll dive bomb you."Nevertheless, he went down the 24 steps and tried to shoo the bird toward the curb. One of the blue jay parents attacked Earl's head.

This photo is from the FCPS website. 

He picked up a stick and waved it over his head to keep the birds away.
"Come help me," he called.
"No," I refused.
"Come on."
So I reluctantly joined him.
"You want to scoop up the bird or swing the stick?"
"I'm swinging the stick," I decided.
So without further incident, Earl cupped his hands and lifted the fuzzy gray and blue bird into the grass just past the curb.
We retreated to the porch and watched the bird hop around. The parents landed beside it, occasionally flying back up to overhead tree branches.
I examined Earl's head where the blue jay had attacked him. "Looks like he got you with his feet," I said. Two bloody scratches pierced his scalp. I dabbed at them with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol.
I didn't think about the fallen blue jay again until about an hour later after Earl had gone to work. Suddenly, I heard the blue jays screeching and screeching in the backyard. I rushed back there and found our outdoor cat Tupi nudging the fledgling with his nose.
"Tupi!" I yelled, clapping my hands and running into the yard to grab the cat. I deposited him inside the door and called over to the neighbor for advice.

Tupi taking refuge in the house.

Sarah had been gardening all day. She had on a canvas hat and gloves. She didn't hesitate to come to the backyard and scoop the baby bird into a grocery bag then carry him to the neighbor's garden inside a high fence.
The blue jay parents, for some reason, did not notice their baby in the backyard or being transferred to the neighbor's garden.
After we deposited the baby in the garden, I let the cat out the front door, hoping he'd forget about the baby bird. He may have forgotten, but the blue jay parents did not. They were waiting by the front porch and immediately started to scream at the cat. He crouched in the dirt by the porch and they dive bombed him. He slunk around, trying to escape their notice, but within a few minutes he was back at the door wanting inside. His ears were flattened out on either side of his head in fear.
A few minutes later, he wanted out the back door. Again the blue jays found him and tortured him. He settled in the house, standing by the screen door and a blue jay alighted on the porch railing, scolding Tupi.I was starting to feel bad for him.
A few hours later, he was in the backyard and  he came running up to greet me and Grace. The other cat, also black, doesn't usually go out, but I let him loose to see if the blue jays could tell the difference. They couldn't. They flew over the yard, zooming down to intimidate the innocent cat who couldn't figure out why these sky predators were attacking him.
I don't know if the parents ever found the baby blue jay, but I do know that Tupi's summer is now ruined. Every time he goes outside, the birds follow him screeching.
I just hope they don't remember what Earl looks like next time he goes in the backyard.

Saturday Snapshot -- Sandhll Cranes

To participate in the Saturday Snapshot meme post a photo that you (or a friend or family member) have taken then leave a direct link to your post on Alyce's blog At Home With Books. Photos can be old or new, and be of any subject as long as they are clean and appropriate for all eyes to see. How much detail you give in the caption is entirely up to you. Please don’t post random photos that you find online.
When we stayed at my parents' house in Florida, we heard the Sandhill Cranes calling a lot, but didn't get to see them that often. Here's a shot of them fairly close.
They're pretty big birds. Probably up to my shoulder when they're standing upright.
They're protected in Florida, but I've read that they are hunted in other states.

Hearing them warble in the morning as the sun was rising made me feel like I was in Africa.

Signs in the Sky

For days now, I've walked outside to a cacophony of birds. They are filling the trees and for random reasons taking to the skies to hover overhead before settling back into the bare, black branches.
Today, as Earl and I headed out for a walk, the neighbor was in his backyard with a hose in his hand.
"Don't spray the dogs," I joked. He dotes on the dogs.
"I'd like to spray those darn birds. Why don't they head south?" the neighbor asked.
Earl said he thought they were grackles, dark birds with spots on their backs.
All along the walk, the birds would land on the grass or in the trees -- chattering and chattering before they shot into the sky again.


I tried over and over to get a photo of the grackles filling in the sky. I missed everytime.

And I didn't think anything about it. I mean, I tried to get a picture, thinking the photo of the birds in the sky might go well with my new novel A Charm of Finches, which is what a flock of finches is called.
I even looked up what a group of grackles is called -- it's a plague of grackles.
But I didn't make the connection that the sole purpose of the bird-filled trees might be to serve as inspiration for my novel. Why didn't I see that they were signs to me? (Do you think that's too self serving?)
The birds are filling the trees and the skies to remind me to keep writing.
It's either that or they're preparing for a remake of the famous Alfred Hitchcock movie.
Oh, I hope they're just here for inspiration.

Bird Watching

To participate in the Saturday Snapshot meme post a photo that you (or a friend or family member) have taken then leave a direct link to your post on Alyce's blog At Home With Books. Photos can be old or new, and be of any subject as long as they are clean and appropriate for all eyes to see. How much detail you give in the caption is entirely up to you. Please don’t post random photos that you find online.

On a run this week, I saw a friend out looking for his escaped cat. I told him I would look as I ran. That's when I saw this black cat sitting and staring into a tree. I thought maybe he had the other cat cornered so I turned around to see what he was staring at.
This is what I saw.

Someone had conveniently placed a birdhouse in the crook of a tree and the cat was ready the minute the birds thought about emerging.
I laughed when I realized what the cat was doing. I tried to lure him away.
He gave me a look of disgust.

Then went back to his birdwatching.

Morning Sounds

Have you ever listened to one of those sounds of nature CDs? They always start off soft with maybe the sound of crickets. Then the crickets grow louder and there comes some running water. A bird calls softly in the background then perhaps louder while fading away.
That was what I heard this morning as I walked out my back door. I was attaching my iPod, ready to plug the earbuds into my ears when I caught the sound of the crickets. I laced the headphones around my neck so I could listen.
As I walked past the Rose of Sharon bushes, the crickets grew louder. Then out my gate down the alley, I passed my neighbor's water feature tinkling. The roads were so still. No cars moved. The air was cool enough that the air conditioners were not clanging to life.
I kept walking, trying to be aware of the sounds around me. A breeze stirred the trees making their leaves whisper and the crickets chirp louder. I turned the corner toward the east. That was the direction I wanted to walk, even though it was downhill, which meant I'd have to come back uphill.
In the orthodontist office the other day, I read an article, I think it was Real Simple magazine, that one way to energize is to face the east for 10 minutes every morning. Facing east was beautiful. The sun was past the point of sending up pinks and oranges into the sky. It was a definite yellow behind those trees and buildings in the east. But the sky was a clear blue and a trace of clouds looked like powdered sugar when it's sprinkled on brownies.
The birds grew louder. A man on a scooter puttered past. A plane engine droned overhead. Then I turned the corner again and the people sounds faded behind the rising sounds of the cicadas waking up for their morning buzz.
When I came home, I gathered my computer and sat on the front porch to continue enjoying the sweet breeze. I watched as a crow was chased by the other birds. He made raucous cawing sounds as the sun continued its yellow path higher in the sky. Like a nature CD set on replay, the sounds started over again with the crickets chirping and the crow harmonizing his protests.

Drip, Drip, Drip

That seven inches of snow that has been on the ground for the past few weeks was beautiful, but when I woke this morning to the sound of drips, I felt like spring has come. I know I still have the rest of frigid January and I can't even think about the gray days of February, but the drip of the melting snow gives me hope.
When Tucker checked in with me yesterday after school as he was walking home, I heard birds in the background. Actual birds singing, as if we weren't in the middle of winter. Isn't it funny how you don't notice things like the birds not singing, until you hear them again?