Birding In The Dining Room!

  There was yet another "birding" episode on the Bayou, today.  Well, it was sort of IN the Little Bayou House!  Our "screechers" took up residence in the chimney as they usually do.  These are the chimney swifts that so many folks despise but I simply adore.  The poor creatures are being put out of house and home due to folks not wishing to share their (for the summer months) unused chimneys with critters.  You hear all sorts of strange tales from folks about how you can catch everything from head lice to leprosy from the birds.  Sorry...none of that is true, folks.  The birds actually help prevent diseases by catching a lot of mosquitoes that carry some pretty deadly things at times.  Think about this the next time your chimney is screeching with baby swifts.  Two parent birds and their offspring can eat up to 12,000 flying insects every day!  Yes! 12.000!!!  That is a lot of insects that would be annoying if left to bother us.  Now consider that several families of swifts can reside in one chimney!  That is even more insects!  The chimney swifts catch flying insects while they, themselves, are in flight.  A lot of those flying insects are things like mosquitoes, gnats, deer flies, horse flies, house flies and, the worst pest of all, termites!  Now, having some baby birds in the chimney does not sound so bad, does it??  If it does to you, then plan on calling an exterminator to rid your place of pests or douse yourself with insect repellent.

  I knew there were several nests of swifts in the chimney...how could I not?  I knew the little ones were to take flight soon by the fluttering and the strong calls emanating from the fireplace.  The wait was on until at least one of the little ones would decide to take a shortcut to the outside.  Instead of flying up the chimney, occasionally one or more of the little ones come down into the house.  No problem.  I simply pick them up as they are so docile (almost tame!) and carry them outside. The little birds succeed in getting someone to help them escape the confines of the dark chimney!  This is only done if the birds are flight capable.  If not, each little one is carefully put back up on the smoke shelf of the fireplace (yes, we have the old-style brick fireplace).  

  The little one,today, was fully ready to take flight. It allowed me to pick it up, tote it outside and even get a photo!  The little tyke sat on my open palm for about a minute before the parent birds came into sight and our little rascal took to the skies!  All's well that ends well.  Tonight, the swifts will return to the chimney to rest but will be at work again at daybreak.  I love these birds!

Its All About The Birds!

  Obviously, birds are meant to be my friends.  Lately, that has become more apparent than ever.  I think nothing of hand feeding the herons, egrets and pelicans but now I can add wild quail and mockingbirds to the list.  Over the past few years, I have picked up chimney swifts, catbirds, mockingbirds, cardinals, doves, wrens, woodpeckers, blue jays and owls.  Of those, only the cardinal decided to give me a good peck.  The others calmly accepted the fact that I was merely trying to help them.  The cardinal was evidently in pain after being hung up in some wire and, perhaps, I used a bit more force than necessary in freeing the bird.  That said, the newest escapade involved a juvenile eastern bluebird.  No, I did not actually hand feed nor hold the youngster but it seemed to be highly attracted to me, for some odd reason. 

  Early this morning as I was picking the figs, I heard the bluebird family making their way to the birdbath.  Each morning, I have watched as they start their day by splashing in the cool water.  It never occurred to me that I would have a "close encounter" with one of the little ones.  This morning, however, one little rascal decided to take flight before the parent birds gave their directions.  The squirt flew directly for the fig trees and, therefore, directly toward me.  Maybe the little one did not see me but it nearly landed on my hand as I was reaching up to pluck a fat fig.  Can you imagine the poor thing's thought when it realized that it was almost in my clutches (which was never my intention in the first place).  Both parent birds came fussing at their little one to "abort the mission" and retreat!  The little one tried but being a novice at this flying stuff, it simply fluttered to the ground.  There, it sat, bewildered.  Mama and Papa Bluebird came to investigate the safety of their wayward child and, then, came to investigate the person picking figs.  After flitting about the tree for a few moments, they seemed assured that I meant no harm so they gathered their brood and went to search for grasshoppers in the lawn.  Our brief encounter ended on a happy note.

 

No Rest For The Weary

  The past few days have been particularly tiresome.  Our old refrigerator (the Big Ugly as I named it) decided that it was time to go on the blink Sunday night.  This was a most inopportune time as deliveries from our local Home Depot are only made on Fridays.  What was I to do?   Son tinkered with the gigantic white elephant of a frig and finally got it going enough to keep things cool.  Great!  Except for the fact that the fan was not working on its own, all was good.  Every hour or so, one of us had to go to the kitchen, reach down behind the frig and twirl the fan to get it started.  While I was appreciative of any bit of cooling the old frig could give and I did not mind getting out of bed to twirl a fan, it began to get tiresome after the first night.  No sleep makes for a confused brain and achy body.  Normally, I am an early riser.  Watching the sun rise above the pines gives me great joy and a time to meditate before the hustle and bustle of the day begins.  This morning, however, I really...REALLY...wanted to snooze just a bit more.  That bed felt all too comfortable!  Then the unimaginable occurred and I was forced to tumble out of bed regardless of my thoughts of otherwise.

  Caw!  Caw!  CAW! CAW!  Oh, good grief!  Right outside of the open window a crow decided to welcome the day by yelling its fool head off while in the black gum tree.   Ok, so one bird would probably be met by the bazillion blue jays of the neighborhood watch of the critter world and be chased far down the hill...hopefully.  Then the first calling bird was joined by another, then another and yet another until just about every crow in the county was sitting outside my window!  What was up with that???  Well, me, for one.  With all that racket, I just had to check it out.

  By the time I dressed and slipped on my shoes, several more crows were flapping their way to my front yard.  This was ridiculous!  Camera in hand, I slipped out the door to investigate the invasion.  All I could think was "Why are you not here in October for the clue hunt?"  (How perfect would that be??)  I edged my way closer to the crows who had now moved down the hillside to the tall oak tree.  Dozens of the large birds were still causing a ruckus and were now being joined by the blue jays.  The jays were attacking the crows, the crows were yelling and I was standing in drizzling rain pondering the whole situation.  Then, in spite of all that cacophony, I heard a weaker call.  An almost whispering "caw" came from a nearby pine tree.  My attention turned to that bird.  

  Yep!  There was the cause of all the uproar.  A fledgling crow was learning to fly!  Obviously, that old adage about taking a village to raise a child holds true in the crow world.  One baby leaves the nest and it is a countywide event!  That is fine.  I am all for baby birds taking flight.  I am all for adult birds guarding it during its trial run.  I am not all for it happening right outside my window at 5am when I am suffering from an extreme lack of sleep!!!  GO AWAY, SILLY CROWS!  AND TAKE THOSE LOUD-MOUTHED JAYS WITH YOU!!!  Grrr!

Just Like In The Movies!

  More oft than not, the Bayou Neighborhood Watch is spot on with their calls.  I am referring to the network of blue jays who send up the alarm whenever a predator is near.  I can pretty much depend on the accuracy of their alarms...pretty much.   Then, again, if that predator is a fat and lazy thing, the alarm is moot.

  Yesterday evening, the alarms started.  This time, it was close...too close...and frantic...too frantic.  My first thought was that our huge resident rat snake had made an appearance in the arbor.  Since the seven foot long snake has not been seen in a while, this was the perfect chance to get a photograph.  With camera in hand, I slipped out the front door and eased my way to the east arbor.  Here the rose brambles were wild and woolly!  The neglected arbor seemed to be the perfect place for the snake to reside but no snake was found.  Instead of a threatening predator, I found a confused cat.  Fat and lazy, Ms. Nycto had been snoozing beneath the arbor when she was literally attacked by an angry mob of blue jays.  The bewildered cat had no idea what she had done to merit such a brutal awakening.  She darted beneath the house to escape leaving me to face the wrathful jays.  I was being dive-bombed from every angle and being hit by a bird is no fun.  It hurts!  This was like being in the midst of the Alfred Hitchcock movie "The Birds"!  It was not fun!

  Then I spied the source of all this ruckus.  About three feet from where Ms. Nycto had been napping, a baby jay was frozen in fear.  The little bird had obviously been learning to fly and made a crash landing next to the sleeping cat.  Once the parent birds realized how close their little one was to the potential predator, they sent up the call and every bird in the county seemed to come to their aid.  Once the cat made her retreat, the birds transferred their attack to me as I had nearly stepped upon the baby jay.  

  I picked up the little troublemaker and placed him high on the fence post.  There he could have another chance at a good takeoff without struggling too much.  With the birds still screaming at me, I made like the cat and took a hasty retreat. She and I did not need to be pelted by birds and Baby Jay needed to perfect his flying skills before it got too dark.

Little Lost Cardinal

  I have a habit of watching the critters of the Bayou and surrounding woods.  It is one of the most enjoyable things that I have found to do. Critters do not cause drama in my little world so most of them seem to be far better friends than most humans.  Still, occasionally, you have to ponder if there is any compassion in the critter world.  It seems that it is all about survival and those not fit enough to compete are simply lost in the shuffle.  That old survival of the fittest idiom is sure evident around here.

  For the past few days, a baby cardinal could be heard calling for its mom.  The little squirt lingered a little to close to the cat for comfort yesterday causing me a bit of angst.  Even though our old cat rarely catches anything lately, she might take a hankering for a baby bird if the situation arises.  I watched each day to be sure that the old cat merely snoozed and did not stalk the bird.  Each day, the bird was getting stronger and soon had all of its adult feathers making me believe that it might just survive. The little rascal found the bird feeders and the bird bath so at least it was able to eat and drink.  At night, it was smart enough to wriggle its way far into the rose brambles for a bit of protection.

  Meanwhile, Mom Cardinal decided it was time for another family. Her abandoning the little tyke was essential as she had already started laying another nestful of eggs.  This will be her fourth nesting of the season. The first clutch of eggs was eaten by crows leaving the cardinal without any little ones to raise.  She tried again and had the nest raided by the owl.  Then she had our little lost one but immediately started nesting again.  She is one busy little mama!  

 This morning, the little cardinal seemed almost sure of itself as it made its way to the feeders.  There, it mingled with the doves and blackbirds and got its tummy filled with fine seeds. It does still have a little trouble cracking the outer shell of the sunflower seeds but that will come with time and practice. Neither the mom nor dad showed up to help the tyke. This one is fully on its own now.

Raiding the Brambles

    I was hiking around the marsh edge when I witnessed one of the sweetest things.  A pair of Red-bellied Woodpeckers was raiding the wild blackberry brambles.  They would swoop down and flutter for a moment before plucking a nice fat berry from the vines.  As soon as one of the birds would grasp a berry, it would fly up to the nearby oak limb. There a ruckus would commence as their offspring sat with its mouth agape.  "Feed me, feed me!" the baby bird would squeal. And feed it, they would.  Berry after berry was shoved down that hungry throat.

  The wild blackberry vines grow higher than my head.  Huge clumps of them dot the hillside ever since Hurricane Katrina.  I am assuming that bits of root stock were washed in with the storm surge and then established themselves.  I leave clumps about the hillside simply because so many critters feed upon them and, if the need ever arises, so can we.  The berries are slightly tarter than the cultivated Boysenberries that I grow on fence lines in the garden but are still tasty and would make great jams and jellies.  If I was not overloaded with fruit and berries that need picking and canning at the moment, I would surely give these a try!

  I watched for about twenty minutes while the parent birds fed their little one.  Then they abruptly flew towards the north and I continued my hike. When I finally made my way up from the creek and through the peach orchard, I heard a familiar noise.  That trio had come to raid my Boysenberries!  The same procedure was occurring. The parents were teaching their little tyke all the good places to dine!  Oh, well.  I really did not feel like picking berries this afternoon anyway.  Son and I did our share this morning when we picked 28 lbs of blueberries.  Whew!  I think I shall just watch the birds pick the other berries!

The Little Visitor!

  Sometimes things I find about the Bayou just make me smile.  It is not an easy life for the critters that live in and around the marshes as predators lurk around every corner.  It is hard for any of the critters to ever reach maturity since baby animals are easy targets.  This goes for both mammals and birds.  Before the youngsters can defend themselves, more oft than not, it is the mother that has to defend her brood.   Other little ones are left alone for hours at a time which opens them to attack quite often.  Predators of all types are hunting for an easy meal and those unattended tykes fit the ticket.  So it is always a happy moment when I happen across a youngster dabbling about the Bayou.  This means that life will go on for at least a while longer.

  This morning, Ms. Ez, the Bayou Dog, and I headed to the pier bright and early.  For the past few morns, it has been unseasonably cool making our adventures even more pleasant.  As we headed down the board path, Ms. Ez's ears perked up telling me that some critter was near.  My eyes were having a bit of difficulty with the morning's bleak lighting to find what she knew was there.  I slowed the pace so we would not frighten whatever was afoot.  This slow pace gave Old Mr. Sun just enough time to throw a few rays of light across the marsh.  The pier was lit enough for me to see just who our visitor was.  Ahhh, a young lad of a Yellow-crowned Night Heron stood gazing back at me!  What a beauty this fellow was!  The juvenile still wore his speckled plumage that told me that he was of this summer's hatchings.  Such a strong young bird was he!

  The Yellow-crowned Night Herons are some of my favorite of the wetlands birds.  They are easily befriended and will actually allow themselves to be handfed.  This makes my visits to the pier delightful! Even Ms. Ez behaves herself as to allow the bird to come nearer.  She knows that if she jumps or bounds the bird will take flight.  That means no extra treats of menhaden for her as well being as I reward her for her patience.  Usually, the Yellow-crowned Night Herons dine upon the fiddler crabs that inhabit the mudflats but they are not above begging for a free handout of menhaden. 

  My early morning encounter was the highlight of my day.  Any little tyke that survives the perils of the Bayou gives hope that life will continue.  It also is a sure sign that the Bayou is healthy and has an abundant food supply.  This little fellow also means that I will have another beggar hanging about the pier!

Determination

  Mark and I headed to the pier just after daybreak this morning.  As soon as we stepped on the board path that took us down the hillside, we heard a high-pitched shriek and then another.  Our eyes turned toward the old dead Black Gum tree just outside the front door.  This was the same tree that had seen so many tragedies this spring.  The European Starlings had lost their eggs to the Red-bellied Woodpeckers.  Those same woodpeckers took over the nesting hole and then lost their eggs to the Red-headed Woodpeckers.  This did not damper the nesting urge of the Red-bellies so Mama merely laid another batch of eggs.  These hatched and all seemed well with the world until that fateful day that a bad storm rolled in off the Bay.  The winds were terrific and the entire top of the tree toppled into the garden.  It just so happened to have broken right at the very spot that contained the young woodpeckers.  Both young birds perished with the impact of the tree hitting the ground.  Undaunted, Mama once again excavated a hole in the dead tree and laid another batch of eggs.  

  This morning's screeching was none other than the newest juvenile woodpecker.  A lone little one poked its head out of the hole and demanded breakfast.  Mama and Daddy Red-belly worked hard to find bugs for their loud youngster.  It seems that this little one should be out of the nest soon and should be able to find its own breakfast.  Barring any more tragedies, this nesting cycle should be a success...if you can call a single offspring during the three effort try, a success.  

  I will say this about the Red-bellied Woodpecker family, they are determined!  Against all odds, they stuck to their guns and raised this little squirt.  Now, if no hawk decides that the youngster is delicious, the bird should be well on its way to adulthood.  

The Visitor

Before daybreak, I went out to pick the figs.  The birds would not beat me to the trees this morning!  Our two small trees are trying their best to show their appreciation for the quality care we have been giving them.  I picked almost a half of bucketful of the little jewels!  Not many by some standards but enough to make me smile!  After that chore was finished, I headed back inside to make a pot of coffee.  Just as I went through the door, something as quick as a shadow caught my eye! It was there and just as quick..gone!  Now, what was that?  I peered into the corner of the room.  Whatever it was..it was small!  This was strange indeed!  Ms. Ez had been in the room this whole time and never even made a whimper!  Some protective dog I have!   I kept staring where I last saw the movement...nothing.  Hmmm?  Perhaps this was just a figment of my imagination?

I made my coffee and called to Michael.  While we shared a cup, I mentioned what I had (or had not) seen.  It took a few moments before my constant prattle even made contact with his groggy brain.  I suppose that it is a futile effort to talk to some folks before that second cup of coffee!  Finally, he made his way into the living room to see for himself.  Aha!  I did see something!  There it was as plain as day!  I saw it again but at least this time, I had Michael as a witness!  There on top of the cabinet was a small bird!  A wren had somehow found itself trapped inside the house!  Not wanting to traumatize the poor, little bird anymore than necessary, we pondered how to extricate it calmly.  The plan was made for me to slip around to the right and open the screen door.  This I would have to prop open since it has a spring attachment that slams it shut.  While I did this, he would make his way around to the left of the bird causing it to veer towards the door.  All was going well, until I broke out in giggles! Michael was heading left alright only he had decided to do so by climbing across the back of the sofa! From there he stepped to the nearby cedar chest and then onto a wicker chair!  My giggles could not be contained!  These actions so reminded me of a game the kids concocted when they were younger.  The floor was the Bayou filled with alligators and they were explorers.  The object of the game was to climb from furniture piece to furniture piece to cross the room..err..Bayou without being eaten by the gators!  Michael was doing well at doing this!  The little wren hopped just out of his reach onto the window ledge.  It tried with all its might to find a way through the screen.  Next hop led the bird to my gourd stash and then to the top of Mom's antique sewing machine.  Michael finally made contact with the floor and amazingly was not eaten by hungry gators!  My giggle attack was starting to wane about this time as I realized that Ms. Ez had taken interest in the game.  She was crawling on her belly toward Michael.  Why she decided to do a belly crawl was beyond me but there she wallowed like some giant caterpillar!  Oh, geez!  The giggle attack struck again!  Poor little wren!  She was being held captive by a bunch of crazies! I lurched forward to grab Ez's collar while Michael eased toward the bird.  The bird, by this time, was mere inches from the open door.  Outside, another wren was calling frantically!  It had seen the little one in the window and knew something was afoul!  Only then did I realize that this was a baby bird that had just fledged!  No wonder the poor, little thing was lost!  At this point, Michael scooted the little one to the open doorway and away Little Wren flew to its mama!

What a story this little bird had to tell!  It had ventured into a scary place filled with alligators, climbing explorers, giggling, crazy ladies and fat caterpillar dogs!  All of these things were chasing the little bird but it was smart enough to find its way out!  It had entered the scary place but made it out alive!  Whew!  That is one brave little wren!

The Good Dad!

I spend a good bit of time watching the critters about the hillside.  Occasionally, I am astounded by the actions of some of these animals especially in the care of their offspring.  In the Avian World, especially, I have noticed that the dads play quite a large role in the lives of the little ones.  Sure, a few of the male birds leave the entire child-rearing job up to the females but there are many that can be considered to be the "perfect dads".   

This morning, I watched as the House Finches took their turn at the feeders.  I could hear the telltale, high-pitched chirps of fledglings mixed in among the steadier chirps of the adult birds.  This could be interesting!  The interaction between Daddy Finch and the little ones proved to be heartwarming.  At first, the little ones sat high on the cross bar of the feeding station.  They fluttered their wings and called for food.  Dad and Mom spent their time feeding seemingly oblivious to the demands to the younger generation.  Each took their dear, sweet time shelling out numerous sunflower seeds.   I though perhaps they were trying to wean their little ones from the free-feeding habits.  I was wrong.

After what must have seemed like eons to the little tykes, Daddy Finch finally flew up to the roost where one lucky youngster received breakfast!  All of the seeds that Daddy Finch had shelled were..umm.."shared" with his offspring.  He actually regurgitates the partially digested seeds into the mouth of the fledgling.  As nasty as that sounds, since House Finches only feed on plant matter, this is a must for survival.  

Also, part of the survival of this particular bird depends upon Daddy Finch taking care of the fledgling birds. Once the little ones leave the nest, Mama bird immediately starts the process over again.  She does not have time to teach the youngsters the fine art of finding food.  Her job is to build a nest, lay eggs and incubate those eggs.  She will help feed the little ones until they fly.  Once that happens, Daddy Finch takes over and continues to raise the little ones until they can be on their own.  His job does not end there.  He also feeds the mother as she incubates the eggs.  I am thinking this dad should receive the "Dad of the Year" award for the care he takes of his wife and children!  He is one amazing father!

Backing away..

Sometimes you just have to back away and leave things to nature.  I headed down the pier to catch the sunset this evening.  With a slight cloud cover, it promised to be another lovely day's end.  No sooner had I stepped on the pier than I heard a loud chattering in the oak tree that overhangs the marsh.  Uh oh..something was bothering the Redwinged Blackbird mama.  I pondered if some critter was getting a bit too close to her nest.  I peered up into the tree.  I could see her but could not tell just what had her so upset.  Shrugging my shoulders, I continued my hike.  The sun was setting fast and if I was to get any pictures at all, I had better hurry on my way.

Just three steps further and I heard another bit of chattering.  Daddy Blackbird had joined the ruckus!  The "General", who sat high in the dead pine tree, joined in also by giving orders to young Mama and Daddy Bird.  If need be, he would join in the assault on whatever marauding critter was raiding the nest.  Once again, I stared at the birds trying to figure out where the nest was.  Surely, I could chase off any critter that was aggravating my birds..but I could find nothing out of the ordinary.

A few more steps and I was nearly binged by the young male bird!  He swooped from the oak limb to just inches above my head.  When I looked up, both adult birds were swooping at ME!  I WAS THE PREDATOR!  Oops!  Somewhere near a little bird must be crouching..hiding from the human monster that was traipsing in the wrong area!  I stopped in my tracks!  Aha!  There just three feet from me was the little tyke.  It was clinging to the marsh grass all the while trying its best to be stone-still.  With the two birds still attacking from above, I took two pictures of Little Squirt and then eased back a bit.  I had no intention of startling the little fellow any more than I already had.

Mama and Daddy Blackbird stopped their swooping and sat back on the oak limbs.  Their scolding did not cease until I had backed a good twenty feet away from the little bird.  From his perch in the oak tree, General let out a high screech to let everyone know that the danger had passed and all was well on the Bayou once again. For me, it was good to see that the little one was trying to learn to fly.  By tomorrow, he should be well on his way to flitting about the hillside with his mama.  Life goes on as long as we learn to let it.  Sometimes we just have to back away and let nature take its course.  There will be other sunsets.

A Reason to Smile

You know, sometimes things just make you smile!  I find more happy things here on the Bayou.  Mundane little things that most folks would just pass on by without ever noticing..I notice.  Down near the pier, there is a wide expanse of marsh grass.  In this marsh, many critters make their homes..some in the mud, some on high knolls and some even hanging in the marsh grass itself.  One such "hanger" is the Red-winged Blackbird.  The small bird weaves together all sorts of sticks, grasses and leaves.  This is all suspended from a number of stiff reeds of marsh grass.  The inside of the nest is then plastered with mud and once it is dry, the nest becomes quite secure.  After the drying stage, she finds the softest grasses available and lines the mud cup.  By the time she is finished, the nest will be a sturdy home about seven inches in diameter.  It is here, swaying in the breeze, that she will lay her bluish-gray eggs that have black markings.  All this while, the male is sitting watch.  Rarely does he do too much to help her other than offering an occasional twig.  It is his job to stand guard against any intruding males that might take a shine to the wife.  After a couple of weeks, the eggs hatch into clumsy, buff-colored, blind babies.

Once those babies are hatched, the males job suddenly intensifies!  Now, not only does he have to stand guard against any predators, he has to hustle about hunting a ready food supply.  This is no deadbeat dad!  He can be seen feeding those young'uns with the best of them!  Even in nature, the importance of dad is there.  After all, any male bird can be a father..it takes a special one to be a dad..ok..so that is not exactly how the saying goes but it applies.  I sat on the pier watching, watching...hoping to spy the little blackbird that was chirping in the marsh.  Sure enough, after just a short wait, a little head popped up in the marsh!  There was my baby!  It was practically underneath the pier!  Soon, the daddy bird started making all sorts of ruckus in the nearby oak tree. He had seen me and I was a bit too close to his baby.  He swooped at me nearly smacking me right in the head!  With all of his racket, other blackbirds soon took up the cause and started screeching at me.  Swoop!  I ducked!  Swoop!  I was not leaving without my picture!  I sat still..just watching that baby bird!  It had frozen on its marsh perch.  The alarm raised by the dad had alerted it to the danger present!  I sat....still.  Not moving, not making any effort to attack the little one.  I am supposing that the dad soon realized that I was not trying to catch four and twenty blackbirds for a pie so he soon calmed a bit.  All this time, I wondered just where was the mother????  It was then that I realized that she was perched on a dead tree trunk just behind me ready to dive bomb me if necessary!  Whew!  I was certainly glad that they decided that I was friendly!

Soon, the parent birds took up their duties and fed that little one!  They were within a few feet of me and after the initial uproar, never once acted a bit skittish to have me so near.  The little one started hopping from grass to grass and the parents even came to sit on the pier.  I was accepted!

Petey or a reasonable facsimile of Petey!

Back in the day..years ago when my children were young, my husband was working in the construction business. This was before his riverboat days when work was hard to come by and he was doing whatever it took to feed and clothe his family. One particular job stands out in mind not because it was spectacular work but rather another incident. He, like most construction workers, carried a metal lunch box to work with him. Some days, he would stick some neat little tokens in this lunch box to surprise the kids. One day, while working on the job, a building was being dismantled and a bird's nest was demolished. You guessed it..into the lunch box went the sole surviving baby bird. This little naked tyke made the transition to the house in fair condition but I did not hold out a lot of hope for its full survival into adulthood. I was wrong. The kids were so delighted with their new charge, that they spent hours on end hunting food for it. Several days passed and it was still alive..much to my surprise. They named the tiny thing Petey even though we were not sure if it was a girl bird or a boy bird. The name just seemed to fit. When it started feathering, I realized that it was a sparrow which helped tremendously with understanding the feeding habits. The story had a very happy ending as the bird did well and was eventually released into the wild...but not after much loving care. The tiny bird was "taught" by these three children to hunt food, stay away from the cat and to fly. Yep, you heard that right..they taught it how to live. Hmmm..or I am supposing. It was the cutest thing seeing them trying to teach it to flap its wings. I think if determination would have been the deciding factor, I would have not only had a bird flying about but also three children soaring above the house. They flapped and flapped. Petey flapped and flapped. They flapped and flapped and Petey flew. They were elated when Petey soared off and then later on when they would see the tiny bird in the yard they would squeal with delight. I could whistle and Petey would fly to me and more oft than not, land on my head. A year later, we were thrilled to see Petey or so we assumed land on our screen door. When I opened the door, the bird flew inside and went from child to child, chirping the entire time.

As I said, this was years ago. Every time I see a sparrow, I wonder if it is Petey or maybe some family member of our friend. The other day, while I was photographing the Monarch Butterflies, a small bird landed on one of the plant stakes nearby. Lowering the camera, I recognized it as a sparrow and thought of Petey. Now I realize that sparrows are not exactly the most wild birds around and they can become very used to humans but this tiny bird had no fear whatsoever. Was it Petey?? Could it be?? Surely not after all this time, but still this tiny visitor stirred memories. I hurried to fill the feeders and toss extra seeds on the ground. Within a few minutes, there were lots of Peteys. The feeders were filled with sparrows. I know that most people would rather have more "beautiful" birds in their feeders but I was thrilled. Petey happened to be a family member and it was like a reunion. Perhaps none were even related to our dear, little Petey but it was a nice thought!