Fierce Creatures Leave the Yard
Fierce Creatures, part deux, I guess.
The little birdhouse we hung and then tried to repair. I was sure it was a done deal, and when it slumped further in a storm, even with our makeshift tying of string around its perimeter, I just hoped the tiny tiger we had duped into nesting in substandard avian housing had time for another brood elsewhere. Remember that little brown bird with black eyes that gave me a squawking-to every time I got too close to the dogwood? That dupe.
We thought maybe the hanging box should be taken down, all those sticks crammed in there removed, and repaired properly. Someone might use it, after all.
So this week I ventured into the dogwood again and peered into the box, still cautious about a territorial challenge from the little songbird. I peered over my glasses and peering back at me, very calmly, were four or five little sets of shiny black eyes, fledglings nestled in together, all alike and soft gray feathers in the shadowy interior. I filled up my head with the uber-cuteness and backed away.
Last night I got home and thought I would see if they had flown yet, since they seemed really near adult development when I looked before, but as I crept under the dogwood branches, my eyes scanning for the rusty brown of The Territory master, I saw a fledgling sitting very still on the branch above the nest box. From the front he was perfectly circular and his still-gray plumage matched the tree bark neatly.
I made embarrassing baby noises at him, got the camera, came back and took a *oops* flash photo of him, which make him squawk and scramble further up the branch, his fellows in the box joined the chorus of alarm calls, and from my right I heard Mom fussing at me. I knew she had to be nearby somewhere.
This morning, the nest was empty.
We looked them up, and I had inadvertently set up the perfect nest box for a house wren - eye-level hanging box in a partially sun-lit location near ground cover and shrubs. They are insectivores, as we had gathered from the beak's shape, and ground feed under shrubs.
I was not aware that house wrens (Troglodytes aedon) were so well known for their territoriality! No wonder I kept getting fussed at. They start several nests to show a potential mate, and will methodically go around and pull unattended eggs from any likely nest site in their territory and chuck them to the ground. So that sweet little bird with the liquid call is the house wren, the well-known Supreme Jerk and Genocidal Maniac of the Backyard. Interesting.
I really enjoyed meeting him, though.
PS - the photo is borrowed from http://www.learnbirdsongs.com/birdsong.php?id=16 which has a lovely example of the male's song to listen to plus the alarm noises.
The little birdhouse we hung and then tried to repair. I was sure it was a done deal, and when it slumped further in a storm, even with our makeshift tying of string around its perimeter, I just hoped the tiny tiger we had duped into nesting in substandard avian housing had time for another brood elsewhere. Remember that little brown bird with black eyes that gave me a squawking-to every time I got too close to the dogwood? That dupe.
We thought maybe the hanging box should be taken down, all those sticks crammed in there removed, and repaired properly. Someone might use it, after all.
So this week I ventured into the dogwood again and peered into the box, still cautious about a territorial challenge from the little songbird. I peered over my glasses and peering back at me, very calmly, were four or five little sets of shiny black eyes, fledglings nestled in together, all alike and soft gray feathers in the shadowy interior. I filled up my head with the uber-cuteness and backed away.
Last night I got home and thought I would see if they had flown yet, since they seemed really near adult development when I looked before, but as I crept under the dogwood branches, my eyes scanning for the rusty brown of The Territory master, I saw a fledgling sitting very still on the branch above the nest box. From the front he was perfectly circular and his still-gray plumage matched the tree bark neatly.
I made embarrassing baby noises at him, got the camera, came back and took a *oops* flash photo of him, which make him squawk and scramble further up the branch, his fellows in the box joined the chorus of alarm calls, and from my right I heard Mom fussing at me. I knew she had to be nearby somewhere.
This morning, the nest was empty.
We looked them up, and I had inadvertently set up the perfect nest box for a house wren - eye-level hanging box in a partially sun-lit location near ground cover and shrubs. They are insectivores, as we had gathered from the beak's shape, and ground feed under shrubs.
I was not aware that house wrens (Troglodytes aedon) were so well known for their territoriality! No wonder I kept getting fussed at. They start several nests to show a potential mate, and will methodically go around and pull unattended eggs from any likely nest site in their territory and chuck them to the ground. So that sweet little bird with the liquid call is the house wren, the well-known Supreme Jerk and Genocidal Maniac of the Backyard. Interesting.
I really enjoyed meeting him, though.
PS - the photo is borrowed from http://www.learnbirdsongs.com/birdsong.php?id=16 which has a lovely example of the male's song to listen to plus the alarm noises.