Over the past few years we have enjoyed a springtime ritual of watching birds return to our backyard and their previously constructed bird condo. It’s an ingeniously placed structure, tucked mostly hidden behind a drain pipe, way up high and out of reach of most predators. Obviously well made to withstand multiple years of use, it was neat, tidy, compact and sturdy… until this year. A multi-day fight ensued over the property, consisting of lots of flying, chasing, squawks and squeals. Final score: Wrens 1 Robins 0.
Then began the intensive renovations. Straw, grass and assorted nesting liners were procured. We admired the industry of the new couple, even as we laughed at their attempts to defy physics and fly up twigs too heavy for their skinny, bird legged selves. We were curious to see just exactly where our new tenants were putting all of their new “stuff.”
One look up the next morning and it was obvious. There were handfuls (beakfuls?) of grass scraggling down in all directions. Flotsam and jetsam hanging low, with the whole thing looking like a really, really bad hair day.
I think the human equivalent would be when a favorite old neighbor moves away and is replaced by someone who promptly tosses beer cans and old car parts in his front yard, and enjoys sitting on his porch in his undershirt, smoking, drinking beer and saying “hey, what are YOU looking at?” to anyone passing by.
Oh how we miss our neat and clean robins. I am thinking about putting up a sign directing our neighborhood hawk to the area. Is that so wrong?