Back From the Brink

On Thanksgiving morning, a loud thump on the kitchen window drew our attention from the breakfast table to the young tufted titmouse that had just crashed and hit the deck.  His rapid wing flaps made us think he wasn't long for this world.  I grabbed a jacket and hurried out, scooping the poor thing up and trying to will him to live.

Our relationship with the tufted titmice at our place has had a bit of a checkered history. They always delighted us until last spring, when they robbed nesting material from the Carolina wren's nest on the front porch, and caused the wrens to move away.  After that, we looked at the marauding titmice in a somewhat different light.  Real life doesn't always follow the Walt Disney script.

When the fledglings came along--four wide-eyed darlings who spent their mornings near our kitchen window, entertaining us with their camaraderie and frequent trips from tree to feeder, they quickly won our hearts back.  After all, who doesn't love babies?

That morning, I held the fallen titmouse for a long time, and when I could no longer justify postponing the Thanksgiving dinner preparations, I put out a warming cloth, and on top of it, shaped an old towel into a makeshift shelter for the little one.

I kept checking back during the morning, and the last time I looked, the little bird was gone. It seemed to be a hopeful sign.  Sure enough, for the next two mornings, all four of the small siblings have been at the feeder, and they are all so active, it is impossible to know which one of them was hurt.

When we were sitting on the deck, me in a chair, and the baby bird in my hand, we had a little talk, and I told him not to ever rob another bird's nesting material, and to come and visit me when he got better.

I hope he remembers.

Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday

Nesting Material

We love watching the creatures around us, 

and at times, I've been known to anthropomorphize when I write about them.

I appreciate you all indulging me.

But don't you imagine they have their own version of this?

Overheard at the birdbath:

"There goes that human with the nesting material on her head."

Wings and Other Things

Pileated Woodpecker, male

It's amazing what you can see when you're not looking for something.  While sitting at my drawing board last week, I heard a faint clicking sound, and looking up, saw a pileated woodpecker clinging to the window frame about four yards away.  My first inclination was to reach for the camera behind me, but realizing that the motion would likely scare the bird, I held my breath and watched.  

The woodpecker was quite striking up close with his impressive size (about that of a crow) and vibrant plumage.  He was opening and shutting his beak, each time emitting the small clicking sound that first attracted my attention.  I had never heard this before, but I'd never been this close to one of these birds, either.  Might he be afflicted with the woodpecker version of TMJ disorder, or could he, perhaps, have just swallowed a castinette?  (Please feel free to weigh in with your best guess.)

After a few minutes on the window frame, the bird flew to a nearby tree, shimmied quickly up the trunk and into the leafy over-story, before flying out of sight.

   

Brown-headed cowbird and tufted titmouse

The thermometer reached 102˚ yesterday,

and everybody was grateful for fresh cool water in the birdbath.

Red-bellied woodpecker, male

Red-bellied woodpecker, male

Chipmunk and mourning dove

Now what was this chipmunk doing out of her cool den in this heat?  

She must have found something pretty interesting.  

Hey, maybe she'll find my lens cap!

How many are your works, O Lord!

In wisdom You made them all;

The earth is full of Your creatures.

Psalm 104:24

Imitation of a Nuthatch

This young tufted titmouse has been practicing gymnastics...

...and wondering if it can grow up to be a nuthatch.

Thanks to Kim Klassen for her textures,

Let Go and If Only.

Linking to 

Texture Tuesday

 Wild Bird Wednesday

Camera Critters

Rural Robbery

Don't let those big innocent looking eyes fool you.  This tufted titmouse is a burglar.  It's possible that he could be excused for robbing insulation from the Carolina wren's winter shelter, as he may not have fully understood the ramifications of his actions, but this week's burglaries were deliberate and premeditated.

We've caught him red-handed on 3 occasions, dipping into the Carolina wren's carefully constructed home in the fish basket and robbing nesting material.  The Carolina wrens haven't been seen for a few days now, and since they are smaller than the titmice, it's just possible that they tucked their tails between their legs and retreated to one of their
alternate home sites.

It's not like there is any lack of nesting material available here; the yard and woods are full of grasses and twigs for any bird willing to look for them.  The titmouse even found the stash of Barley's hair that we put out for the purpose, and carried it off in large fluffy beakfuls.

This week's events shouldn't surprise me.  Those little birds, I know, are opportunists.  While walking in the woods this week I stopped along the trail, and one of them flew close, flitting from branch to branch and and circling around me, chattering all the while.  I may have ventured too close to his nest, but more likely, to my thinking, he was checking out the nesting material on my head.  On 2 occasions in the past, one of these birds has sat on my head and pulled out hair.  No kidding.

We hope the Wrens will be back, even for a second nesting, but what happens next is anybody's guess.

It's a jungle out there.

For bird photos from around the world,
go to World Bird Wednesday.


For exquisite photos of birds to the south of us,
check out this site:
Pasión por las aves.

R-Factor

The past few days, tufted titmice have been busy stripping sunflower seeds from the seed head hanging upside down on the porch.  They may not know that this action lowers the R-factor in the walls of the interior.

This same seed head serves as a hammock for 2 Carolina wrens, who spend their nights tucked inside the cavity.  Late at night, when I walk Barley, and pass them at eye level, the only thing visible is a clump of back and tail feathers, and I have to resist the urge to reach out and touch them.

Tonight I walked out on the porch at dusk.  They had just checked in for the night, and one little head peered out at me, unafraid, from her leathery fortress.

Three years ago this past spring, Carolina wrens nested on the front porch, and I was there when they fledged.  As the sweet things took practice flights on the porch, 2 of them landed on my lap and settled down on my well worn blue jeans, while their mother chattered at them from a short distance.  I wonder one of those fledglings might be the same bird now watching me from her night shelter.  And, if she is, I wonder if she's dreaming, on these cold winter nights, of lining her nest with soft blue denim.

Textures by Kim Klassen,
of Texture Tuesday.

Also linking with The Creative Exchange,
Deep Roots at Home,
and World Bird Wednesday.