This time of year, I can open up the porch doors in the morning and listen to a chorus of birds like you wouldn't believe, each bird trying to claim its own tree and force the other birds to scram. It can stay like that for hours until some neighbor cranks up a lawnmower or decides to trim a tree with a power saw.
I remember summer mornings like this when I was growing up, and my mother would assign me the task of moving the lawn while she was away at work. I couldn't stand to do it—I didn't mind the chore of mowing, but I hated pulling the chord on the mower and cutting through the peace of the outside world where all you could hear were birds and agitated squirrels and the wind in the trees. I always waited until later in the day or after someone else in the neighborhood had revved up some other obnoxious man-made machine.
This spring season, the big, scary owl was no deterrent, and we were visited by a baby robin that chose our patio as his place to grow up and learn to fly. For his sake, we kept the cats inside because at first he couldn't get more than a foot off the ground and couldn't fly for more than a few seconds at a time. He seemed content to sit on the lounge chair and have his mother plop worms into his mouth.
Here he is on the ground waiting for more worms and keeping a close eye on his mother perched on the fence.
Here is he camping out in the bush outside my office window, again waiting for more worms which seemed to arrive every few minutes. Boy, can this guy eat.
And here he is chattering just before he managed to take off and leave the patio baby-birdless. At least the adult variety are still as noisy as ever.
Call us lazy, but we don't mow our own lawn, and the service that does it once a week usually doesn't show up until late afternoon. If they were to shift their schedule and start clanking and roaring around early in the morning, I'm afraid I'd have to ask them to wait until afternoon because clearly the birds have business to attend to and a social structure to sort out—and babies to feed.
I remember summer mornings like this when I was growing up, and my mother would assign me the task of moving the lawn while she was away at work. I couldn't stand to do it—I didn't mind the chore of mowing, but I hated pulling the chord on the mower and cutting through the peace of the outside world where all you could hear were birds and agitated squirrels and the wind in the trees. I always waited until later in the day or after someone else in the neighborhood had revved up some other obnoxious man-made machine.
This spring season, the big, scary owl was no deterrent, and we were visited by a baby robin that chose our patio as his place to grow up and learn to fly. For his sake, we kept the cats inside because at first he couldn't get more than a foot off the ground and couldn't fly for more than a few seconds at a time. He seemed content to sit on the lounge chair and have his mother plop worms into his mouth.
Here he is on the ground waiting for more worms and keeping a close eye on his mother perched on the fence.
Here is he camping out in the bush outside my office window, again waiting for more worms which seemed to arrive every few minutes. Boy, can this guy eat.And here he is chattering just before he managed to take off and leave the patio baby-birdless. At least the adult variety are still as noisy as ever.
Call us lazy, but we don't mow our own lawn, and the service that does it once a week usually doesn't show up until late afternoon. If they were to shift their schedule and start clanking and roaring around early in the morning, I'm afraid I'd have to ask them to wait until afternoon because clearly the birds have business to attend to and a social structure to sort out—and babies to feed.
Comments
I hope he keeps coming back when he grows up.
Mme, Eustacia took all the photos (there are plenty more) and the video. His parents didn't like how close she got, but he just sat still and let her snap away.
I have one of those plastic owl's in my yard it holds the cover on my gas grill.