A Peep in the Nest
How exciting! How very, very exciting! In the office complex where I work, there’s a walk way that overlooks a beautiful courtyard through a long row of huge windows. Along one small stretch is a tree. Because the walk way is on the second floor, anyone walking along it looks out directly into some of the upper branches of the tree.
Well this week as I walked through that walk way, looking out over the yard – would you believe it? – of all the trees scattered throughout that place, a family of robins chose one right next to the window to build a nest and begin their family! They’ve chosen a perfect spot where one large branch breaks off and up into four slightly smaller ones creating a lovely little cradle for the nest. It’s low enough and close enough to see from the walk way, but safely on the other side of the glass so the birds don’t feel like they need to run away. What an opportunity to watch this wonderful event close up and in person, without being in any danger of interfering in any way!
I thought it would be great fun if I shared the experience with you week by week. So here’s your first report.
Largely, it’s been Mama sitting on the nest, although I’ve seen Daddy there egg-sitting a couple of times. The nest is made, of course, largely of twigs and stuff, but sadly, there’s also some garbage blended in. A strip of plastic hangs off one end, and a tangled mass of string on the other. It’s too bad we’ve treated our world in such a way that the animals are building their homes out of our trash.
However, the nest seems to be holding most firmly. I discovered the nest about three days ago. I looked it up and found gestation period is about 12 to 14 days. Without knowing when the eggs were laid, I can’t begin to estimate a due date, but if they were laid about the time I found them, then they should hatch around mid-June, I guess. We’ll see.
One question that crossed my mind is why Mama, who sits there for hours on end, doesn’t get bored to tears? Today as I walked by, I saw her sitting there with her beak open and quivering slightly, and her chest heaving in and out. With the relatively soundproof glass in the way I can’t really tell, but I think she might have been singing! Well, that’s one way to pass the time while she waits!
I’ll be keeping an eye on the nest to watch for little babies and I’ll keep you up to speed. I now return you to your regularly scheduled blog post.
A Splash in the Pond
It certainly was a gray, drizzly weekend to be out in the heart of the country visiting Auntie, but we didn’t let that bother us. Unlike us humans, Mother Nature doesn’t run and take cover at the slightest rain. In fact, sometimes she does some of her best work in the rain.
Now,
granted, this was a little bit more than the
slightest rain. In fact, it was coming down pretty good at some points. But
as the drizzle let up a bit, one evening, and the sky began to show some spots
of blue, Auntie suggested we all head down to the pond to see if the beaver
were out and about. Everyone knows the beaver do most of their work and dawn
and dusk.
It was
green and drippy out, and the air smelled fresh and crisp. We crossed the
field, said hello to the little cat in the barn, slogged through the wet grass
and climbed over an old, collapsing barbed wire fence. At last we came out of
the trees and stood on the slope that overlooks the pond from high above. At
one end, a small group of Mallards quacked quietly back and forth. Above us,
the trees were filled with the songs of the courting songbirds. It was so quiet
and peaceful.
“There
they are!” Auntie suddenly whispered, pointing.
Out on
the water, a little brown spot was gliding across the surface. A few yards off,
another brown spot glided on a course that would take it right across the first
one’s path. I pulled out my monocular for a better look.
Now I
could see it! In the little circle of clarity formed by my scope, the brown,
wet head of a beaver bobbed above the water. He glided along leaving a small
wake behind him. I searched for his brother (wife?) and beheld a similar scene.
“Oh!” I
whispered, “I want to take the picture I see through my scope!” Next time, I
clearly need to take my zoom camera. The only reason I didn’t this time was
because I didn’t check until the last minute to see if it needed charging.
Lesson learned.
As it
was, I’d have to make do with my regular camera. Here’s one of the photos I
got. It’s not too bad.
I
pulled out my monocular again and watched as one of the beasts paddled placidly
across his pond. They were perfectly at peace. Why couldn’t our lives be so
calm?
Then,
suddenly, right before my eyes, he leaned way forward so his nose was touching
the water, his back was arched and his iconic tail was high in the air. Then,
in one fluid movement, he used his tail to slap the water with a startling
CRACK!! And he dove beneath the surface. I scanned the water for the other and
watched the same scene a second time.
Now the
water was calm again, so we stood and waited. In a minute, one of them appeared
again. He was now on the other side of the small dugout, and he seemed to be
paddling towards us. He came closer and closer to shore and almost seemed ready
to climb out, when he suddenly turned around and disappeared under the water.
Then the other appeared a few feet off. He glided for only a few moments before
he lifted that paddle tail again. He smacked the water with such ferocity that
he created a splash massive enough to hide him entirely from view. Then, like
some kind of magic trick, when the water settled down, the beaver was gone.
That
seemed to be the end of the show.
Then
Auntie took us to the other side of the pond where the beaver lodge was dug out
of the side of the muddy bank. Don’t worry. We didn’t get too close or cause
any damage, but that was the closest I’ve ever been to a beaver lodge (except
the replicated one at the museum, but that’s just not the same thing!). The mud was packed like cement with sticks
carefully embedded here and there creating strength. One stick poked straight
out of the top like a chimney, its end gnawed to a point.
Just
next to the lodge were amazing examples of fresh beaver work. Trees were
chopped directly in half with mounds of chips scattered everywhere and clear
tooth marks visible in the fresh wood. It sure makes a person realize exactly
how close they truly are. They’re around us all the time. And, in point of
fact, as we stood there admiring their handiwork, they were likely only inches
beneath us in the lodge waiting for us to hurry up and carry on so they could
continue their work.
As we
returned to the dusk-filled yard, the cool evening air filled with the eerie
sound of the coyote. First there was a wild, ageless howl of a Mama, followed
by the yip, yip, yip!! of her little brood of spring pups.
No,
Mother Nature doesn’t wait for the rain to clear up. She’s doing her stuff
right now.
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