Posts Tagged ‘nest building’
Safe place for a nest
No surprise to me … a robin has built a nest in the eaves of our house. Eighteen feet above the ground, this is a safe place for a nest. The robin does not think so. When I sit on the deck for my daily cup of tea, the robin sits in a near-by tree and scolds me. He gives a single annoyed chirp. If a robin could scowl, he is certainly scowling.
robin in the rafters and in rain
If you are a bird, this is the time of year for nest building! An American robin has built a nest in the support beams of our deck. Years ago we had fun watching a robin build a nest and raise a brood in the rafters of our cabin.
~
This year’s nest builder thinks the deck is his alone. Going in and out by way of the deck gets us a scolding. The robin puffs out its chest and tries to lure the marauders away. I am afraid to go near to get a photo since I might disturb eggs or chicks, so a photo of a robin’s nest in winter will have to do!
~
~
Sudden Storm
~
dusk
half darkness
the moon rises
a sliver from full
~
spaces yawn
liquid robin song
~
aspen, motionless
poplar tremble
a nuthatch rustles in the leaves
~
wind chime plays a scale
~
cloud stretched across the moon
a hand pressed to the treetops
leaves turn to the silver underside
~
warm splashes
polka-dot the patio
puny dust storms on the step
~
streamers stripe the glass
~
curtains of rain
~
~
Copyright Jane Tims 2017
songs in the grey woods – northern parula
A friend, a knowledgeable wetland biologist, has been helping me learn some new bird songs. Last week, I identified the song of the Northern Parula. This is a bird I have never seen, though I scan those tree tops with the binoculars until my arms ache. I have heard its song so many times and always wondered what it was. The song is a long whirrrrr, flowed by a short, upward flip. Whirrrr -flip. Whirrrr- flip. This morning it was the first song of the morning bird chorus!
~
~
It drives me crazy to hear him sing, be able to find the tree he is perched in, but not see him. My painting is how I think he must look, based on descriptions on the net.
The Parula is a blue-grey bird with a yellow throat, and a yellow and white breast. He has a white crescent above and below his eye and two white wing bars. A bright and beautiful bird! He has an association with a lichen I love, Usnea subfloridana, Old Man’s Beard. He uses the lichen to build his hanging nest.
~
Usnea subfloridana on the snow – usually found hanging in our maple, spruce and fir trees
~
Copyright 2016 Jane Tims
nest of the Eastern Phoebe
This time of year, I hear a wheezy call in our maple tree. The Eastern Phoebe has arrived, to build a nest under the eaves of our shed.
~
The Phoebe makes an appearance in the book I am writing – ‘Crossing at a Walk’. I have just reached Draft #5 of the writing, a time when I edit for adverbs, sentence length, repeated phrases and so on. I also work to clarify the plot and the story, making certain my characters are true to their missions in the book. At this stage, the editing is a bit of a blur.
~
Here is an excerpt from the book. The Eastern Phoebe has come to check out the Whisper Wind Writers’ Retreat (the setting for my story). Tom will encounter three Phoebe’s in the book: the shrill ‘fee-bee’ song of the Chickadee in spring, the Eastern Phoebe with its nasal ‘phee-bee’, and the name ‘Phoebe’ carved in the covered bridge …
~
I am in our garage, cutting leaves from a sheet of copper for a new wind sculpture. I glimpse a quick flutter outside the window and hear knocking in the eaves.
I put the tin snips down on the workbench and step outside to investigate. At one corner of the garage, up under the edges of the roof, is the nest of a bird, constructed within the last few days.
As I lean to get a better look, the mighty construction worker flies out and swoops up to the height of one of our birch trees. It tilts its black head and says, in two raspy, out-of-tune syllables, ‘phee-bee’. The sound is nasal and cheerless, quite different from the bright ‘fee-bee’ of the chickadee in spring.
An Eastern Phoebe! A charming grey bird with a puffed black hairdo and a dirty white throat. The phoebe sits in the tree and wags his tail. He says, again, ‘phee-bee.’
Every morning in June he wakes me.
‘What on earth is that annoying bird song?’ says sleepy Sadie.
‘You could hardly call it a song,’ I answer.
~
For more about the three Phoebes, see my post for May 4, 2015 ‘spring orchestra – fee-bee’.
~
the nest of the Eastern Phoebe – notice this Phoebe has found a few strands of tinsel from our Christmas tree to decorate his home!
~
Copyright 2015 Jane Tims
nichepoetryandprose 