They Grow Up Fast

   At any gathering where there are little ones, you are bound to hear someone say "Enjoy them while they are little because they grow up fast."  It is true.  They grow up, move away and start a life of their own and you are left with an empty house and memories.  You long for their company but it is not to be.  They are too busy.  So, folks, do spend as much time with your little ones as you can.  There most likely will come a day when you wish you still had them nearby.  Growing old is not for the weak.

  Speaking of growing up far too fast, the baby cardinals flew from the nest today exactly one week from the day they hatched.  I thought it was too soon but maybe the near encounter with the snake made it necessary.  The two little rascals got off to wobbly starts but, by late afternoon, they could be seen flitting about the place with ease.  It does not take them long to learn the use of their wings.  Mama and Papa Cardinal spent the day coaxing their twins to the best "hunting" spots and were showing them how to spy the yummiest bugs.

  Now, even the Small Gardens seem lonely.  My bird families have raised their broods and are off to explore new things.  The days will be passed with me doing chores without the visits even from them.  Perhaps I should go find that rat snake and bring him back into the garden plot just to have someone to share the day.  They all grow up way too fast.

Close Encounters of the Snaky Kind!

   Snakes are out and about these days.  Yesterday, I watched as the ospreys squabbled over a cottonmouth and, then today, the encounters were more personal.  It all started as I was pulling out all the old winter crops from the garden to make space for the summer crops.  While there, I usually let the mind wander or listen to the birds.  It was one of those birds that caught my attention.  Papa Cardinal was making the oddest chipping noise.  I called to him and asked "What's the matter, my friend?" and then went about my work.  The chipping continued and then Mama joined the chorus.  These are the parents of a nest full of babies in the rose bush just outside the garden fence.  Ok, so Mama obviously needed help.  Going to the nest, I could see she was heroically guarding it from some unseen entity.  "Well, where is it, Mama?" I queried?  Yeah, I talk to my birds as if they understand.  Well, maybe they do.  I asked again and Mama fluttered off the nest to the nearby fence and then back again.  Ok!  I turned and came face to face with a snake!  There on the fence, mingled with the pea vines, was a rat snake almost 3ft long.  Hmm...ok.  Now what?  Papa Cardinal was on the fig tree having conniptions, Mama was on the nest standing guard and the only other creature coming to aid was a nuthatch!  Yep, a tiny nuthatch joined the fight!  

  Since Mama dutifully showed me where the snake was hiding, I figured it was my job to get rid of the thing that was causing their despair.  Well...I reached in, grabbed the snake and tugged it out of the vines.  That little rascal was feeling quite protective as it turned around and tried to nip me!  Nope, Little Buddy!  I swapped it to my right hand and flipped its body around the arm.  Even though, I was trying to save the baby birds, there was no reason to hurt the snake.  Now that I had him secure, it was photo time!  After a few shots, I toted Friend Snake down the hill and released it next to a large oak tree.  There was plenty of coverage for it and it was far enough from the birds...hopefully.

  The next incident was on the north side of the house and involved blue jays and a quite large rat snake.  Being as there was no nest nearby, I did not have to tangle with that one.  I am sure it would have been a bit feistier than its little brother.  After shooing the snake into a brush pile where the birds would not bother it, I resumed my yard work.  All was quiet on the hillside!

  Late this afternoon, Darling Daughter related an incident at her workplace.  She is a speech pathologist at a senior care facility and was having a group session when they had an unexpected visitor.  A small garter snake slithered into the room and was causing a big stir among the human residents!  So...what does Darling Daughter do?  She is like her mom, she picked up the snake and took it out into the gardens of the facility.  She said she sure was not going to let anyone kill that sweet thing!  Good job!  That makes a mom proud!  Thus ended the snaky encounters for this day...at least, I hope!  I am in for the night and would not want to find one in the Little Bayou House!

Very Special Surprise

   In one section of the Small Gardens, there are quite a few rose bushes.  Even though the arbors have gone the wayside due to hurricanes, the roses have made a comeback and are doing well.  One, which was Grandmother's Rose, has outdone itself with blooms.  Granddad rooted this rose for me many years ago and he was the one that dubbed it "Grandmother's Rose". The name stuck and I will never think of it as anything but.   Grandmother always loved her flowers but never worked in the gardens.  Her "work" consisted of taking her little snips, cotton gloves and flower basket out to clip a few blooms to bring indoors.  Still, they were Grandmother's gardens.  When I stepped outside today, I was tickled to see so many blooms on the bush.  I tried counting but somehow got lost after a hundred!  Grandmother's Rose!

   There is something very endearing about that rose bush this year.  Right smack dab in the middle of the bush is a bird nest with several baby cardinals in it.  Mama Cardinal is mighty tolerant of me wandering about the gardens as I work.  Sometimes, I am only inches away from her nest but she never makes a fuss.  While it is not unusual to have a cardinal nesting in the Small Gardens, I find it heartwarming to know she chose this particular rose bush.  Northern Cardinals were Grandmother's favorite bird.  How appropriate that Mama Cardinal chose Grandmother's Rose as her home!  Maybe it was just meant to be,

  

Just How??

   It boggles the mind to know the tenacity of birds and their nesting habits.  I know a lot of people who would have given up long before the Mama Wren.  It was a sweet surprise to walk out in the drizzly rain to find that five babies have now hatched from that clutch of eggs.  How??  Just how??  We have had so many terrific storms since this little bird started her nest that I am fully surprised that she was able to protect her eggs.  When you get 7 inches of rain pouring down on you in a matter of 5 hours, it has got to be majorly uncomfortable, to say the least.  She stayed put and bore the harshness that surrounded her.  She and Mama Cardinal have been stoics through some of the worst weather.  Both have been brave little mamas and now Mama Wren has to find food in all of this wet weather.  (Yep, it is still raining.)

    Tomorrow will most likely find me moving some of the stacked planks from hurricane debris in hopes of uncovering a few bugs for Mama Wren.  If I stir up enough of their hiding places perhaps the wriggly critters will be on the move and the wren parents can snatch them up for a quick and easy meal for their little ones.  With 5 mouths to feed and pouring rain to make hunting difficult, they can use all the help that is offered.  Since both wrens are accustomed to my presence, they should have no worries about working alongside of me.  Gotta take care of my friends!

Meanderings, Baby Birds and Commonsense...

  While out in the gardens or roaming the marsh lines, I observe.  It seems that is what I do best. I am a watcher of sorts.  I investigate everything...plants, critters, weather...whatever catches my eye.  Mostly, I watch critters.  The animals around the Bayou have not flourished as they have by being stupid or ignorant.  (And, yes, there is a difference.  Look it up.)  People of the world should take note.  Animals are smart. They know how to take care of themselves and don't go whining about their lot in life.  The tiniest mouse has just as good of a life as the huge alligator.  Neither are up in arms about the other.  People are not so smart.

  Today as I piddled in the gardens, I could hear a family of blackbirds as they came up from the marsh to get a bite to eat at the feeders.  I was pondering why it took them so long to make the 300 ft flight but then I realized that they were coaxing their young along the route.  The parent birds were not only encouraging their young to fly but were teaching them where they could find a free meal at times.  The mama blackbird would fly to a tree and call to the little ones.  Once they made it to the tree, she would do a short flight to another branch.  Never did she let them actually reach her until they were finally at the feeder.  Then, she and the papa bird pecked furiously at the seeds.  The little ones peeped, fluttered their wings and begged to be fed.  Mama and Papa pretended not to hear but kept pecking at the seeds.  It was only a short time before the little ones got the idea and tried to mimic their parents.  The lessons were a success.  Baby birds only have a couple of weeks to learn the ropes to being an adult bird.  Flying, finding food, finding shelter are all lessons that need to be mastered before the mama bird takes to the nest again.  It is this way with most critters. Very few spend more than a couple of weeks or, at best, a few months caring for their young.  It seems that humans and elephants are just about the only ones who baby their young for any length of time.  

  It got me to pondering a lot of things watching the birds today.  It has not been that long ago that human kids were put to work at an early age.  Families depended upon it.  If you were able to toddle at all, chores were assigned and were expected to be completed.  Maybe that's what is wrong with society today.  Kids are mollycoddled too much for too long.  They become dependent, lazy and have a "me" attitude.  They expect to have everything handed to them or they pitch a fit just like the little birds at the feeder.  Gimme!  Gimme!  Gimme!  Thankfully, those parents had commonsense.  They led their brood to the feeders and expected them to start feeding themselves.  No more handouts!  That, my friends, is commonsense teaching.  That, my friends, is what is lacking nowadays.  No one thinks for themselves anymore.  'Nuff said. 

Web of Protection

  Down near the marsh edge on the east side of the house, there is a large clump of underbrush and palmettos.  Entwined in all of that are dozens of large smilax vines.  These vines twist and turn through the shrubbery and palmettos creating an almost impenetrable mesh.  The whole lot looks a total mess and I really should break down and cut it.  I don't.  I don't for one simple reason.  It is a fortress of sorts.

  In that clump of tangles a brown thrasher has made her nest for the past few years.  While she is vulnerable to snakes not much else can reach her or her nest.  The eggs are safe.  Once the eggs hatch, her little ones are well protected against most predators. Even after the little ones fledge, they have the instinct to return to the tangles when threatened.  Land critters such as fox, bobcats and even feral cats cannot slip through the tangles without calling attention to themselves.  Large birds seeking attack from above cannot maneuver through the web  The thrasher did a good job choosing this site for her nest.  I do not have the heart to destroy her world simply for the sake of having a "clean" yard.  

  In fact, the tangled mess is rather interesting.  My daily hikes take me around the back of the clump where I never  know what may be in the path.  Even the tangled vines serve as a point of interest.  With that in mind, I can fully convince myself that the "habitat" needs to stay.  The web of protection shall continue to surround the Thrasher family.

He Has Got To Go!

  Since Son is remodeling the shed, he had to do a good bit of cleaning before he started work.  Stuff had been shoved in there for the past ten years and instantly became lost.  He discarded 90% of the junk but a few items have to stay put right where they were tossed...at least for another couple of weeks.  Some old outdoor Christmas decorations were leaned against the side of the shed with good intentions of donating them.  Well, things happen and those things cause changes in plans. 

  A pair of wrens decided that their nest needed to be decorated for Christmas so they built it in the midst of the figures.  I have adamantly refused to move the decorations.  They will stay until the little ones fledge.  The eggs hatched two days ago and the mama and papa birds are busy creatures.  While I was out working in the gardens, it was nice to see the birds helping me find pests.  Then, it was a thrill to hear the little ones begging for their turn to be fed.  At one point, those hungry tweets were overpowered by terrified shrieks.  Oh, my!  I dropped everything except my trowel and raced to the shed.  A rather large, dirty yellow cat was attempting to raid the nest!  Ok, that was it, you nasty beast!  My trowel went sailing toward the feral cat.  Of course, my aim was way off and the plastic shovel hit the porch rail but the noise was enough to send the cat off in a hasty retreat.  

 I checked on the babies and they were fine.  They had hunkered down in the nest and the parent birds raised enough ruckus to draw my attention in plenty of time.  Now, however, I am worried that the cat will be back.  This feral cat has terrorized the place for too long.  He attacks Ms. Nycto, the Bayou Princes Cat, marks the territory by spraying (and stinking up) the steps and is now trying to make a meal out of the baby birds.  I am thinking a trap may just be purchased real soon.  This thing has got to go. 

"Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay!"

  Our neighbor across the Bayou has a rather large, luxurious home.  I marvel at the extensive place each time I head to the pier.  Living for so long in the Little Bayou House, it seems to me like I could fit ten houses the size of ours in their living room.  Probably not, but you get the idea and, don't get me wrong here, I would not trade houses with them for anything since I love my little place!  These people built this huge home, landscaped the place beautifully and maintain it impeccably.  I have to admit, they make great neighbors.  With the Bayou between us, I have yet to actually meet them.  You know, "good fences make great neighbors"!  Although I am sure they are delightful people, the Bayou provides just enough of a "fence" between the two places.  In my humble opinion, they have only made one mistake with their place.  On top of this gigantic house, there sits a massive cupola.  This cupola is at least the size of a small room and has open air arches around the entire thing.  As far as I am aware, no one has ever entered the cupola since the house was built several years ago.  That does not mean it is unoccupied but instead of people being up there, a "kettle" or colony of swallows has squatters' rights on the place. Each year an entire flock of barn swallows build their mud nests and brood their young in the cupola.  While this is similar to my chimney swifts laying claim to my fireplace, I think I would much rather have the swifts than the swallows.  The fireplace does not have to be "cleaned" like an entire room.  Brushing down and vacuuming the fireplace after 5 or 6 swifts does not compare to cleaning the poop that fifty to sixty birds leave in that cupola!  Aside from that mentally crushing idea, I rather like the swallows.  Barn swallows feed exclusively on insects and tend to gravitate to larger ones.  Flying over the Bayou, it is easy to watch them snag whatever hovers there.  The birds are quick and agile so catching insects in flight is not a problem.  

  I sat thinking about the swallows as I watched three juveniles sitting on a pier post.  The little ones flew quite a distance to perch and wait for the parent birds to fetch lunch.  Occasionally, Mama or Papa would fly in, hover just out of reach then dart away with the intended morsel still in the beak.  They were trying to entice the little ones to get off their lazy butts and catch their own food.  Now and again, the adult would actually drop in to feed the littles but more oft than not it was the swoop and evade ploy.  The littles have a lot of learning to do before they will be as deft as their folks but with the good teaching methods, they should be agile fliers in a few weeks.  Then the parents can nest again.  For now, the baby birds are just wasting time as they are "Sittin' on the dock of the bay" to quote a very talented singer/songwriter...Otis Redding.

The Debut!

  While the ospreys are just now choosing nesting sites, Mama Wren is busy hunting bugs.  Her five eggs have hatched and the young'uns are hungry!  Of course, she has the good sense of nesting in the greenhouse where it is nice and warm and where she can relax while setting.  The greenhouse is virtually free of predators.  Probably the only predator that can raid her nest would be a snake and since I am in the greenhouse daily, I try to make sure none are lurking nearby.

  Mama Wren has no qualms about me working near her nest.  This year, she built the nest about six inches from the front door.  This is the door that I use dozens of times each day.  Had she been frightened of me, she had ample opportunities to rebuild in a different spot before she nested.  Once she started setting, my entering never caused her to take flight.  She stayed put and I puttered about the place.  This morning, I had the opportunity to check the nest and found five hungry, little birds!  Exciting!

  This bring back memories of Pop's shed and a wren that nested on his work bench.  If he needed to use the work space, he would merely pick up the nest and move it to one side....with Mama Wren inside!  That little wren never worried about Pop being nearby just like my Mama Wren in the greenhouse.  These little birds are some of the most trusting in the avian world!  

  In a few weeks, the little ones will learn to fly in the safety of the greenhouse.  By the time they make their exit, they will be well on their way to having perfected the skill.  In the evening, however, the entire family will come back home to spend the night.  Smart birds!  I love sharing my space with them.

Screechers Are On The Loose!

  Several years ago, my niece, Kammie, described some of the critters of the Bayou as "Screechers".  This was a slip of the tongue as she meant to say "scary creatures" but combined the two words.  I liked this better than scary creatures so it became the name of a certain bunch of creatures. In the fireplace each summer, a growing number of chimney swifts make their nests.  Once the eggs hatch, the tiny birds start to make noises as the parent birds fly in to feed them.  All birds do the same only with the chimney swifts being confined in what, more or less, is a giant tunnel, the noise is loud.  Most folks would have immediately called an exterminator to rid the chimney of the birds but then complained of the bugs around the Bayou.  I rather like the birds, their penchant for biting insects and even their noisy screeching.  I love the Screechers of the Bayou!

  For the past several days, I kept telling Son that it sounded like one of the Screechers had fallen to the bottom of the fireplace.  To me, it sounded as if the bird was in the firebox and not the chimney.  I feared that the parent birds would overlook this little one and not feed it. Still, the bird did not seem to be weakening so, perhaps, my fears were for naught.  Then, this morning,  it sounded as if the bird was fluttering inside the house!  SON!!! 

  He and I (armed with flashlights) started searching the dining room.  My first thought was that the bird was inside the antique parlor stove.  This old cast iron stove is vented up through the chimney.  While I took off the burner plate on top, Son took off the protective grating on the front of the stove and set it to the side.  Nope, no bird inside the parlor stove!  Where was that thing??  Son reached down to pick up the grate to replace it when a frantic fluttering again took place.  The tiny bird had been clinging to the grating when he had removed it!  Now, the bird was on the loose inside the house!

  After about five minutes of (gentle) bird-chasing, the little tyke settled down near the newel post.  I reached down, picked up the bird and consoled it.  The bird sat calmly in my hand.  Son took a photo of it but refused to use the flash.  "It has been living in the dark all of its life.  The light will harm its eyes." he told me.  So, the photo was dark, the bird was put back in the fireplace and all was good.  As soon as I held my hand behind the stove board that covers the fireplace front, the little bird flew up the chimney to be with his siblings.  Probably by tomorrow, the birds will have all flown up the chimney and out the top.  This little one probably would have been ok on his own outside but it was best to let him be with the others for his first flight. Happy flying, Little Screecher!  Come back to see us now!    

The Tale of Two Tails

  Late this afternoon, I took a hike down to the pier and then around the shoreline to where the Bayou meets the creek.  Not much was happening except for the fact that I was being steadily attacked by deer flies.  Those things are brutal!  The more I swatted, the more they came. I rounded the clump of gallberry bushes only to come face to face with a mourning dove.  The bird was on a limb just about eye level with me. Evidently startled, the bird flew off the limb to the ground about ten feet from me.  There, she started the familiar "I'm hurt!" routine that was a sure sign that her nest was nearby.  While she flip-flopped around the hillside, I looked for her nest.  With all of her coaxing, I knew that her little ones were not hatchlings.  She would have never left the nest if they were tiny. They had to be juveniles that were about ready to leave the nest. Her babies had grown to the point where they filled the nest which accounted for her being on the nearby limb.  

  Sure enough, after a few moments, my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit brush and I spied the two little birds.  Wow!  They were nigh on as big as Mama!  I could clearly make out two tails sticking up out of the nest.  I eased back as to not frighten the little squirts but then Mama Dove made a beeline flight back into the bush.  Her actions startled the little ones and both tumbled out of the nest and onto the ground.  Oh, my...now what?  Putting the little ones back into the nest can be safely done for the birds but I would have been scratched to pieces by a smilax vine that twined in among the limbs.  I watched the little ones and soon realized that these two should be old enough to fly.

  Sure enough, Mama Dove flew to the mimosa tree and both little ones took off in perfect form.  Their flight to the mimosa tree may not have been their first attempt by the looks of it!  Mama Dove seemed proud of her little ones and had gotten over her fear of me. The trio did not budge from the mimosa tree even though I was just a few feet from their perch. All of her theatrics were in vain.  There is no way I would have ever harmed her little ones!

  A bit later, I saw the trio fly back into the gallberry bushes and the two settled back into the poorly formed nest.  There they will spend the night protected by the smilax thorns and sheltered by the thick canopy of gallberry leaves. Mama took her perch on the limb several feet from her nest....just in case another monster entered the scene.  If so, she would, once again, start her "break dancing" routine.  Geez!  What mamas do for their little ones!

All's Well That Ends Well

  The little family of wrens that were in the greenhouse have all vacated the place..at least during the daytime hours.  Their nest in the hanging basket of Swedish Ivy stands empty.  In the early evening hours, Mama and Papa Wren gather their five little ones to spend the night in their cozy nest.  Soon, that too, will cease.  Mama Wren will choose a new spot in the greenhouse to have another brood.  In the meantime, however, the tiny tots are learning the ropes of being foragers.  Mama and Papa are teaching their brood the finer points of bug searching.  

  This morning at daybreak, I headed to the greenhouse to fetch some gardening supplies.  As soon as I opened the door, the entire place was aflutter with the fledglings.  The little ones were out of the nest and trying their new found ability to fly.  I am glad that they have the safety of the greenhouse to try their wings for the first time.  This gives them a predator free spot to learn to the new skill.  Once I realized that I had walked in on a bunch of tots exploring the plants, I immediately backed out sans my supplies.  Those would have to wait a bit.  It was not long before the first little one found its way outside.  I watched for a moment as Mama and Papa doted on the little squirt.  They made such a big ado about its ability to fly a good four feet!  Satisfied that the parents knew what they were doing, I went back to weeding the garden.  I could hear one after another of the little ones making the great escape from the greenhouse.  Mama and Papa were elated...until about five minutes after the last little one flew the coop.  Then, a terrible screeching came from the little family.  Oh, my!!!  I have never run so fast for a bird!

  Not even paying attention to where I was stepping, I raced to the aid of the little birds.  By the time I reached the back of the greenhouse, two cardinals, a mockingbird and two thrashers joined in the commotion. Then, with the odds against them, two fat squirrels raced up the oak tree and started barking.  Had one of them tried to snack on a baby bird?  Stranger things have happened.  Squirrels have raided birds' nests before but usually for eggs and not baby birds.  I found no other predators in the area, though.  Mama and Papa were exceedingly alarmed and no babies could be found.  My goodness!  Five minutes out of the confines of the greenhouse and something terrible already happened?  Then a small peep.  One little one came out from under some leaves.  Yay!  Then another and another and another until all five babies were found!  Whatever attacked the little ones did not succeed!  My little family was safe! 

  All day, the family searched for bugs, practiced their flying skills and explored the hillside.  Late this evening, I noticed the parents herding their crew back into the greenhouse which makes me happy as we are expecting a night of stormy weather to hit the Bayou.  The little ones will be snug back in their hanging basket home for another night.

The Villain

  "Uh uh, Uh uh!"  Someone was denying a fact even before they were accused.  To me, that automatically suggests guilt.  Perhaps I am being hasty in my judgement here but it seems to me that those who yell the loudest are sometimes the guiltiest.  Why go to all of the trouble of being in denial if you are not as guilty as sin?!  "Uh uh! Uh uh!"....once again the phrase was heard making me even more sure of my thoughts.

  This denial was coming from the tall pine tree back behind the shed.  All of the smaller songbirds were in a tizzy making it clear that something nefarious was underfoot...or above head...which seemed more likely.  That familiar noise was the cawing of a crow and its presence was causing a major uproar among my songbird community. What I have been blaming solely on the small Screech Owl may be due to none other than the visiting crows.  "Uh uh!"  Once again, the crow denied knowing anything about the nest raids and the missing eggs and baby birds.  

  I was just about to go "Grandmother" on the crow and start banging on my pie tin when the smaller  birds took things in their own hands...errr....talons...errr...whatever.  The ruckus drummed up by the woodpeckers, cardinals and wrens brought in the fighting forces of red-winged blackbirds.  These are fighter pilots with the best of them.  It did not take long of the five or six smaller blackbirds bombarding the crow to make it vacate the premises!  The rest of songbirds remained quite atwitter as they checked their nests.  Perhaps in all of that chirping, twittering, tweeting a few word of thanks should have been directed toward the red-winged blackbirds who merely went back to their own nests as if the deed was nothing special.  Wouldn't it be great if we humans could find it in our hearts to do good for our communities without expecting to be rewarded.  Good job, red-winged blackbirds! You are brave beyond compare and I salute you!

  The referral to going "Grandmother" was due to my maternal grandmother's habit of grabbing her metal pie pan whenever she needed to frighten off any predator.  Whether it be crows, a pack of wild dogs or a few wild hogs, this was her "weapon" of choice.  There was one time, however, that the pie tin failed her and a pack of wild dogs was attacking the lone pet dog so she grabbed the rifle and let loose on the dogs. Good part was that the pack of dogs scooted towards the woods...bad part was that she was standing on the screened porch at the time she shot.  Granddaddy never let her forget that by showing everyone the telltale holes in the screen...but he always ended his story with how proud he was of her for rescuing the poor pup!  Oh, Grandmother!  I miss you!

Not so "Calm before the storm!"

  Late this afternoon, we were greeted by a lovely thunderstorm brewing just north of the Bayou.  While a good storm always lifts my spirits, this did so exceptionally.  It has been too hot lately and a soaking rain would cool things tremendously.  As the storm was rumbling in the distance, I took a quick run to the pier to check the boat.  On my return trip, I noticed a female Red-winged Blackbird fussing at me from high above. Her perch on the upper most branch of a small oak tree gave her a good view of my comings and goings.  She fussed incessantly which did just the opposite of her intentions.  I knew she had little ones near so I stopped to investigate.

  Her little ones were in a nearby pine tree and they were not so little. Four fledglings chattered up a storm as they waited for Mama to bring them some food.  The little ones were quite playful and were mock sparring with each other.  Obviously, they were not just out of the nest. They could fly right well and were practicing their swooping abilities. One especially was aggravating the other three by dive-bombing them from above.  Even though the little fellow's flying capabilities were admirable, his landings left something to be desired.  Several times he missed his intended perch and he flopped around a bit before regaining his composure.  I can only imagine his siblings snickering at his mistakes.

    The wind from the storm made it almost impossible to catch any good photographs but I watched the little birds until the lightning informed me that it was still quite a trek to the Little Bayou House.  It is not a wise thing to be on a pier during one of these storms.  The power behind lightning strikes can split a post to shambles so a human body would stand no chance.  I wished the little birds and Mama good tidings and hurried up the board path!

The Empty Nest or the Greatest Mother's Day Gift?

  Today being Mother's Day, I set about my usual chores.  Yep, my kids have all grown and left the nest except for one who decided to stay put. Which is fine as he is a big help around the place.  The others are married and have their own homes.  The oldest, his wife and two children live far from the Bayou while my daughter and her husband are just a short distance away.  I figured that today was not much different than any other day and if chores needed doing, I needed to get them done.  One of the first things was to pot a few houseplants into some new hanging baskets.  Since this was to be done in the greenhouse, that was my first stop.  No sooner had I stepped inside than I knew that this was a huge mistake.  Birds!  Birds were everywhere!  The baby wrens had chosen Mother's Day to leave the nest!  My entrance into the greenhouse had the four tots all aflutter!  Their wild fluttering and frantic chirping soon brought Mama and Papa Wren racing inside also. Ok, so six birds flopping about the greenhouse in a frenzied panic was a bit much.  I started to ease out the door.  Then I had the bright idea!  I should open the door and let the little ones fly free!  As it was, they would have to make their way all the way up to the eaves of the greenhouse to the one small opening if they ever wanted to explore the wild, blue yonder.  That thought vanished as quickly as it came with the realization that two cats were on the prowl.  NO!  No, Little Birds!  Stay put and practice your flight inside the safety of the greenhouse!  I carefully backed out of the door and closed it behind me!  All babies were safe!

  The fledgling birds got me to thinking about Mama Bird's fantastic Mother's Day Gift. She witnessed her four little ones growing to maturity and leaving the nest.  She had done well and was rewarded by seeing them become quite the efficient little foragers.  Soon they would be on their own and she could sit back and smile. Yep, she had done her job as a mother well.

  This also got me to thinking about my Mother's Day.  It is a great gift indeed to see your offspring grow into hardworking, productive adults. I can honestly say that all three of my children have made me proud. Sure, I wish I could see them daily.  Sometimes that empty-nest syndrome makes me blue but overall, things are good.  Happy Mother's Day to you.....to me....to all of us who made it our priority to raise our children to be fine adults.  We did the job well.

Critter House!

  The greenhouse is alive and kicking!  First, Mama Wren has hatched her little brood and is now as busy as can be trying to feed those hungry tykes.  She and Papa Wren dart in and out of the eaves as they come in with bugs.  At first, they were a bit leery of my presence but it did not take them long to realize that I meant no harm.  As I worked in the plants, they worked at providing a meal for their little ones.  Soon the greenhouse will be filled with chirps of the tykes.  Ahh, the beautiful music of wildlife!  I am in hopes that the wrens will continue to nest in the greenhouse.  This could be one of those win/win situations for both the birds and me.  They can have a safe place to raise their little ones since it will be out of inclement weather and also out of most predators' reach.  I can have a builtin insect control system!  A family of wrens can do a fine job of ridding the greenhouse of most of the destructive insects that love to munch my plants.

  Then there are the ickier bits of wildlife that inhabit such a place. Spiders!  I have no qualms about spiders residing in the greenhouse as long as they keep their distance.  They, too, do a fine job of keeping the place pest free. Like I said...as long as they keep their distance...a good, healthy distance!  Today as I was potting a few cuttings from the begonias, I found one spider that insisted on being a tad too friendly. No matter how many times I tried to shoo the critter away, he kept trying to hitch a ride on my arm.  That, my friends, is too close.  After several attempts to make him leave on his own, I flipped him out the door!  He was not overly happy with this new arrangement since it was raining and he landed directly in a puddle of water.  Unless this critter finds his own way back home, he now resides in the fig tree.  There, he will be ok until I have to pick figs!  We will most likely meet again and I will flip him into parts unknown!  He had better be careful and not push me too far as he may meet his demise in a not too nice way.

  And here I was under the impression that my greenhouse was for raising plants!  Birds and spiders...what next?

 

The Quest of Parenting

  On the Bayou, I watch a myriad of critters as they go about their daily fight for survival.  At times, it may be a struggle just to find a meal.  At other times, inclement weather can cause problems.  Still, life goes on and the critters usually adapt to whatever is thrown at them.  A recent thunderstorm dumped a hefty amount of rain in just a half hour.  The torrential downpour would have spelled tragedy for any wee babes that might be just out of a nest such as the fate that beheld our Red-bellied Woodpecker babes last month.  I worried because I knew that the cardinal family had just fledged four youngsters earlier in the week.  Although they had the appearance of being mostly grown, I was not entirely sure they knew much about survival.  This deluge could have been a final blow to any that were weak from hunger.  After the storm blew over, I went out to check on the tots.  I really did not need to worry about these little ones as their parents were on the ball!  Cardinals are some of the best child-rearing critters I have ever seen! 

  When I opened the gate that leads down the board path, I was happy to see the cardinal family rummaging around on the ground under the bird feeder.  The woodpeckers had already made short work of most of the sunflower seeds but, at the same time, emptied the smaller seeds on the ground. Mama and Papa Cardinal were teaching their eager brood to scavenge for a meal.  My little ones would be A-Ok!  

  Once I realized that all four had made it through the storm, I had to start giggling.  Those poor birds looked like drowned rats!  They were soaked! This brought back a surge of memories.  Several years ago, I fostered two tiny, orphaned mockingbirds.  When brought into my care, these two did not even have feathers!  They both survived and still come back to see me occasionally.  A lot of folks do not like mockingbirds but I have a hearty respect for them as they eat a lot of garden pests!  It was after the two birds "flew the coop" that a similar storm hit the Bayou.  The little female, Shelby, came back to stay inside with me but the male, Knox, was nowhere to be found.  Like any good mother, I fretted over the absence of poor Knox.  Suddenly, during a lapse in the rain, a noise at the screen door told me that my "prodigal son" had returned. Poor little Knox!  He was soaked.  It took a good bit of doing but I dried and warmed the little tyke until he, too, was resting comfortably on my floor lamp.  These two little ones were all too happy to stay the night inside once again.  

  There was a huge difference in the two sets of youngsters.  The cardinal brood had their true parents with them through a tough time whereas the mockingbirds had a bungling human acting as a mom.  I am just happy to say that both are doing well at surviving the storms in their lives.  Good job!

Mama Rail surprises me!

  I head to the pier most every day.  It seems as if that is the one place that I can fully relax and find an inner peace.  The water calls to me so I go.  I watch the critters that also find life there.  Both in the water and along the shoreline, I find critters that I call my friends.  On a few rare occasions, some of the critters actually seem to reciprocate the feelings.  We share a bond and that bond totally revolves around the Bayou.  

  This morning, an old friend greeted me on the walk up the pier.  Mark called my attention to a small Rail that was scampering across the mudflats.  She was hunting breakfast on this early morn.  There is nothing unusual about seeing the rail except this time she seemed a bit more wary than most mornings.  It did not take long to realize the cause of her edginess.  She had brought her brood of youngsters out from the nest in the marsh.  Mama Rail was teaching her babies the fine art of scavenging the mudflats for a meal.  Fiddler Crabs and Bull Minnows crowd this small area and are easy pickings for the Rails and other shorebirds.  This morning, however, the flats were vacant except for the little family.  

  Mark took Ms. Ez, the Bayou Dog, up the hill so I could sit and watch the Rails in peace.  Ms. Ez usually sits patiently beside me during times like this but with Mark around, she is a bit antsy.  She thinks he is only there to play with her and watching the marsh birds is too quiet for her when he is here.  As they went up the hill, I sat and communed with the birds. Mama Rail brought the brood back out of the marsh where they had scampered to be safe from the big, lumbering dog.  Although Ms. Ez would never harm a bird, she is a bit overbearing at times. Mama Rail was just being a mama by protecting her little ones.   Now, however, she felt at ease and brought them out for me to see. What a fine bunch of youngsters!

  Clapper Rails are funny birds.  They are small compared to most shorebirds but have huge personalities!  They are normally quite secretive birds and are rarely seen yet if one feels safe, they come out into the open.  Mama Rail is so used to my presence that she often never even notices when I am around.  Each year, she proudly brings her brood out for my inspection.  I talk with her and tell her what fine bunch of kids she has.  Sometimes I think she understands. She will tilt her head to one side to stare at me while I brag on her family.  The little ones happily skitter across the mudflats and play Hide and Seek in the marshes.  My little friend's visit made my morning!  Her sharing her brood with me was the highlight of my day!

All Grown Up and Ready to Fly!

In just ten days, the baby Brown Thrashers are almost ready to leave the nest.  This morning between thunderstorms, Mark and I hiked down the hill to check on the little ones.  It had been a wild night on the Bayou and the morning light did not see things improving by much.  I was worried that the wind and rain might have dealt a heavy blow to the babies and I was anxious to get to the nest.  As I neared the Crimson Wisteria bush that held the nest, things seemed to be a mite soggy.  My poor babies!  Suddenly, Mama Thrasher started her screaming at me! She had no use for spectators at this early in the morning!  Mark held back a bit as both of us peering in the nest might have been a bit much for Mama Thrasher.  "Are they ok?" he asked.  I was happy to report that both little ones seemed quite healthy! The two little Thrashers were fully feathered and appeared ready to explore the world around them.

Baby Brown Thrashers hatched on April 5.

Those same babies just ten days later now fully feathered and quite alert!

After taking a couple of pictures, I eased back so Mama Thrasher could check on her little ones.  That big, old monster had come mighty close to her babies but her scare tactics had worked.  The monster was retreating!  I had to smile when I thought of how she was so positive that I was the enemy.   She could not see that I was merely there to check on the safety of her little ones.  On the other hand, Mama Dove has no problem with my presence.  She does not fear me nor cares if I handle her little ones.  Ever since the recent storm that left her dazed and the babies knocked from the nest, she trusts me enough to know that I would never harm her brood.

Mama Thrasher will have to watch her little ones carefully for the next few weeks.  They should be flying from the nest soon and I will not be able to protect them from predators.  Dangers lurk everywhere on the Bayou.  The little ones will have to learn quick to keep a watchful eye and to react with haste!

Protecting the Brood.

After the day's chores were completed, Ms. Ez, the dog, and I headed out to explore the wonders of the day!  We have walked this hillside thousands upon thousands of times but each hike brings something new to our attention.  The newness and the wonders of nature never cease to astound me.  At times, I stand silently in wonder at some small creature or plant thinking of how had I missed that on a previous walk.  Ms. Ez is always on the hunt for a new scent or sight.  She is loyal to a fault and will stay by my side at all times even though the temptation of a romp after a squirrel tugs at her brain!  Occasionally, I give in to her whims and tell her to have her fun.  Then she is off on a lark, romping to her heart's content.

Today's wonderment happened while we were near the marsh's edge.  A low lying scarlet wisteria bush set the scene for an adventure!  I stepped softly..my moccasins hardly making a sound on the damp leaves.  Still, I managed to upset one bird to no end.  An adult Brown Thrasher let out a shrill scream that set off the bird alarm system on the entire hillside. The raucous Blue Jays soon took up the cause making the Bayou echo with their calls.  Uh oh...I must have stepped a bit too close to somebody's nest!  I stopped in my tracks and hand-signaled for Ms. Ez to do the same.  She immediately sat.

Sure enough just about head high in the bush, there was a nest.  By this time, Mama Thrasher was screaming bloody murder and Daddy Thrasher heard the call. I was nearly pelted in the head by his warning attack!  My goodness!  I would never harm your little ones!  Since I was already within inches of the nest, a few pictures would not hurt!  Even with the avian population of the entire area in an uproar when I snapped the first picture, the mouths of the little ones flew open!  The bright yellow lining of their throats could be easily seen. This bright yellow acts as a target for Mama and Daddy Thrasher.  This yellow can change from pale to dark orange and some ornithologists claim that this is a signal of the level of need for sustenance. If the parent bird sees dark orange then that baby is fed first.  So if this is true, the pale yellow means the baby has recently been fed.  Makes sense to me!  These little rascals were ready for whatever Mama or Daddy had!  They were quite feisty for being so small.  The competition for food had begun already even though the little ones' eyes were not even open!

After a couple of pictures, I noticed that both parent birds had settled down on a limb a few feet from me and were watching me with curiosity.  I suppose they wondered just why this huge monster was looking but not eating their young.  I thought of Mama Dove and how she has come to trust me.  Perhaps in time the Thrashers will, too, but not just yet.  They were curious yet cautious..ready to dive-bomb my head if necessary!   I eased back to let them have their peace.  Both parent birds slipped in to inspect their nest...all was safe.  Gee..I love wildlife!