And here I am feeling bad because I drowned not just one, but two fledgling sparrows in my daughter’s wading pool. After victim number 1, I had to go someplace and didn’t drain the pool, and when I came back a little while later, there was victim number 2. They were only sparrows, but I still feel crummy about it.
There’s nothing quite like a Carolina Wren unexpectedly exploding from a hanging basket as you water it. 'Bout made me water my drawers. We have a couple of Cardinals that have raised a brood for 3 or 4 years now in a Pomegranite in the back yard next to the birdbath. I do love watching the young 'uns test their wings.
I’ve had this happen too. Scared the bejezus out of both myself and the poor little sleeping birdie. Never water hanging baskets after dusk!
I don’t have a feeder, but I have a birdbath that gets quite a workout. I love to watch the doves, bluejays, and cardinals. The grackles, not so much…
A few weeks ago I found two little baby sparrows, dead on my driveway. It was sad.
Not a bird, but . . .
The other day Mr. S and I were tromping around in our woods. As we came back out into a clearing, suddenly he stopped dead and whispered out the side of his mouth, “LOOK BEHIND ME,” gesturing with his head. I looked around, puzzled, and finally saw the tiny spotted fawn that he had almost stepped on. It was about the size of a large cat, and not visibly moving (though its eyes were open). We got down as close as we dared, and finally Mr. S saw its nose twitching. Then we got the hell out of there.
It appeared that Mama Deer had hidden her baby well; even though it was in a mostly green area of tall grass, it was hard to see unless you REALLY looked.
Mr. S saw a fawn about the same size crossing the road just now; it may well be the same one.
We’ve had a couple sets of robins fledge already. I’ve got one swallow or marten nest that had 4 eggs a week ago, so more baby birdies are imminent.
Aww, I loved the baby bird pictures. A few years ago my neighbor was cutting down the middle of three huge Blue Spruce trees that had grown too close. He was removing each of the lower branches one by one in order to make it easier to chop down when he realized that a nest containing actual baby birds was in one of the middle branches.
Needless to say, the work came to a screeching halt. For weeks I smiled every time I passed that tree that looked like it had dropped its pants.
2 stories from this year:
Buddy the Beagle was out front with me the other day as I watered the plants. He was only interested in the bunny scents but the Robin parents didn’t know it. They made quite the fuss as he passed underneath the tree where their babies were housed. The father was even brave enough to land about ten feet away from the dog and yell at him in his best Arnold Schwarzenegger voice. I don’t know what was cuter: that brave little bird chirping away or Buddy being completely and utterly oblivious to the tongue lashing he was receiving.
A sadder story. I went to the mailbox to get the mail and saw a sweet little dead baby bird. Thing is he was missing his head. Which made me wonder what sicko birdy stalker would remove/eat a bird’s head and leave the body?
A cat, I’d imagine.