Do you get all soppy over the birds who choose to make their homes in your garden? I'm really hopeless at this time of year, spending far too much time looking through binoculars and spying on the backyard shenanigans of feathered friends. Remember these so called "decorative" boxes on my back fence? Well this Spring the white one became the nesting site of a pair of tiny Chickadees. Out of the original four teeny tiny eggs, only one became a real live little birdie - who knows what Nature's master plan is?
Here he was peeking out the day before he fledged.
Next morning, while walking around checking everything, the sprouting shoots, the unfurling hosta leaves, the climbers, and the bursting buds - I heard the chick cheeping from the ground, and the chirping of the parents above in the tree. Ran for the camera - got this shot of him clinging to the bluebell leaf. Amazingly, the chicks seem to be the same size as the parents, and only two weeks old!
Later that morning, having a coffee on the deck while the carpet cleaner worked his magic inside, I saw the chick standing quietly on the bench cushion - wish I'd seen how it got up there. Then the parents both brought it a tasty lunch. Soon they all fluttered off into a brushy area to do whatever proud parents and their new offspring do.
The year's at the Spring,
The day's at the morn,
The Morning's at seven,
The hillside's dew-pearled,
The lark's on the wing,
The snail's on the thorn,
God's in his heaven,
All's right with the world.
~Robert Browning~
The day's at the morn,
The Morning's at seven,
The hillside's dew-pearled,
The lark's on the wing,
The snail's on the thorn,
God's in his heaven,
All's right with the world.
~Robert Browning~








