In spite of having a fondness for watching birds, and a soft spot for feathered, and furry, creatures in general (see ), the convergence of three bird episodes in one week has the Surfin’ Bird song playing in my head on a continuous loop.  

First, Mama Robin has decided to build a nest on the top edge of the new pergola.   

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A second nest is more problematic.  The contractor who is remodeling the bathroom installed a new bathroom fan earlier in the season, when it was still quite cold and definitely pre birdnest season.  The outside cover for the vent  pipe was left off just a tad too long–a new roof for someone else intervened.  Now a family of wrens has taken up residence in the pipe, which means we’ll have to wait until they are off on their own before replacing the vent cover.  I’m just hoping nothing else gets in–like a nest of yellow jackets!

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The third baby bird story gives new meaning to the appelation “birdbrain.”  Not sure if the mother bird found some quirky way to get into my garage, building her nest first, or, if all three of her fledglings managed to fly into the garage en masse, but there were three baby birds flying around in the garage (decorating everything) for about a week.  

Mama Bird would fly in and out of the garage, trying to convince the babies to follow her to freedom.  One ended up trapped inside a box of items waiting  to go to the Fleatique.  I teased the things apart, found the baby bird and put it outside.  The other two were less  cooperative.  I left the garage door open for a week, the mother bird constantly scolding and coaxing, bringing them food.  Not sure if they actually used the water I put in a big shallow bowl, but they worried me for a week.  They were too dumb to fly towards the light. 

A-well-a bird, bird, bird the bird is the word…