The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing birds is come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land. Song of Solomon 2:12
I know this isn't unique, but bird songs have always comforted me. I tend to wake up very early in the spring or summer, and the birds start singing around 4am. I've paid enough attention over time that I'm starting to identify which bird makes which tune, and pick out the noise of a nest full of babies.
This nest is directly outside our dining-room window. I took this shot last week:
Robins build a nest here every year. These guys are a few days old, but by this morning they're this big:
They're crammed into the nest. That's what a steady diet of worms'll do for you.
A month ago I put in my garden, and noticed two blackbirds nesting in a spruce (see photo below, behind woodpile & fence). The male and female scolded me while I worked; when they flew into the tree, I heard the babies going nuts, which is very normal because the parents' arrival means food.
After I knew they were fledged, I looked at the nest.
I also noticed doves flying in and out of the Sequoia, but I wasn't about to climb up and check.
Speaking of doves, we had a little incident with one juvenile. Let's just say that accidentally, he got hit in the head. He had a small wound, and his top feathers were all messed up. He didn't want to move, and we felt very sorry for him.
(Do you like my purple rubber gloves? I'm not about to touch a bird.) I put him under the bird feeder and subjected him to my boot-camp style of rehabilitation, rife with recriminations and comparisons to other birds. He sat there for a day and a half, then flew off.
Of course, we watch these little guys every day:
And speaking of little guys, a few weeks ago I notice a sparrow outside my front window, flying in and out of the lonicera, which is trimmed to knee height. So, I checked...
...and then checked again yesterday:
They were just coming out of the eggs, and the egg on the right was MOVING! So cool. This morning I looked in again.
If you wiggle the nest, they do this reflexively; they think the parent is back, and open up for a bug or worm.
I've had a wonderful time watching these amazing, adaptable creatures. What a God we have.
Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? And one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father (knowing). But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows. Matthew 10:29-31
