Nesting Instinct

I've spent more hours this spring watching the birds nesting than I've spent watching the 5 part HBO mini-series Mildred Pierce.

The birdwatching was definitely more satisfying.  Mildred Pierce ended so oddly and suddenly.  Maybe hoping for a second season?

I came home after work one day to see this partly-made nest fallen under the tree, and wondered if the wind blew it down.  This could belong to a robin, or a mourning dove, or a cardinal, because all of them were to-ing and fro-ing from the fir bird condo.  I left the nest where it fell, so I could continue to admire the handiwork whenever I walk by.

This year we have a pair of chicadees roosting in the birdhouse.  They come and go lightning quick,  darting in and out of the small hole with admirable precision.  I don't think there are more than a few millimeters to spare, so they must time their entry perfectly for wings-tightly-closed.

And in the cedar, we have cardinals taking over last year's robin nest.  I watched the female for well over an hour, flying in with leaves to plump up the nest.  The cedar branches waving up and down on a windless morning.  The male remained a safe distance behind, standing guard, watching her progress.  I decided to go out and sit, and let the cat out too, just so they'd know the area was inhabited.  But they seemed very focused and undeterred.  I just hope the chicks don't suffer the same fate last year's robins did - plundered by crows.

I look forward to the flash of red of the male cardinal, and yesterday saw 2 males together.  Too territorial to pair,  I realized.  On closer look, they were scarlet tanagers.  They'd flitted in and left after a minute or two.  I stayed staring out for a good 15 minutes but they didn't return... maybe just passing through.  I feel lucky to have caught their brief appearance.

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