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Posts Tagged ‘Birds’

Our garage renovation, aka the casita, has come to a standstill.

It was thoroughly expected. Only on HGTV can a whole house be built in 100 days. I’ve learned there are two phases of city inspections – the ‘rough-in’ is first, where electrical lines are placed and plumbing is dug. Our backyard is a minefield of trenches, just filling the bird feeder can be dangerous. The second inspection happens at the end, when the walls are up and the toilet flushes. And since the inspector couldn’t even find our casita hidden behind a huge dumpster on the first go-round, we are sitting in a state of perpetual construction limbo.

While gulping my first cup of morning coffee, I decided to read about the King’s visit to the White House of our Would-be-King. And I was delighted to see the first stop on the Lawn tour was to the apiary! I didn’t know that Melania had decided to keep Michelle Obama’s colony of bees. And their hive isn’t just a bunch of boxes; no, it’s an exact duplicate of the White House! Paving over the Rose Garden and demolishing the entire East Wing in order to build a $400 million, 90,000-square-foot ballroom must have exceeded their renovation budget. 

It didn’t surprise me at all that Mr T’s first response, after surviving his third assassination attempt, was to reiterate his need for the Great Gatsbyesque ballroom. It’s a question of security, he wants us to believe, and not an homage to his own ego. Some Republicans are buying his story as they watched the three most powerful politicians on the Hill being escorted from the stage this weekend at the White House Correspondents Dinner – the President, the VP and the Speaker. It must have dawned on some of them how ridiculous it was to have the starting lineup of succession to the presidency all in one room.

In fact, the GOP would like the National Trust for Historic Preservation to drop its lawsuit against Mr T’s no-bid building project. Their response: “What Saturday’s awful event does not change is that the Constitution and multiple federal statutes require Congress to authorize construction of a ballroom on White House grounds, and that Congress has not done so…”

Now I’m not comparing our little Nashville casita to a White House ballroom, but we got three bids! Actually first, we had a bunch of contractors tell us our job was just too small for them. Anything under $200,000 wasn’t worth their time. Imagine that. Bob and I have survived many a building project together after almost fifty years of marriage. Did I just calculate that right? FIFTY?!!! Our very first renovation project was after leaving the Berkshires, to return to NJ. The Rocker was just two years old when we migrated back to the East Coast and installed a steel beam to open up the kitchen to the family room. When Bob hung the wallpaper upside down in one corner. Where our Welsh Corgi’s puppies were born in the new family room.

But I can’t forget about the bees! The Rocker was born at the edge of a Wildlife Sanctuary in an old farmhouse. Before we moved into East New Lenox Road, we had to have a beekeeper relocate a hive of honeybees from our fireplace.

Now we can look back and laugh at our marital renovation journey – from bees to building a house in a forest, to a casita. And as much as I enjoy a good laugh, I wasn’t even going to watch the WHCD this year, I only switched it on for a few minutes before going to bed. How could a president with absolutely NO sense of humor be roasted? What kind of nonsense was this? Didn’t this very event, a celebration of free speech, trigger Mr T into running for president in the first place?

And I watched him sitting there, oblivious as others startled to the sound of gunfire. Did he have his hearing aids in? And could he have been stunned into self-reflection while longing for his ballroom? Nope. Our President went right back into his malicious tirade against the free press while being interviewed by Norah O’Donnell. Notice how this female cardinal could care less about our casita.

Screenshot

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This morning I had an appointment with a new physical therapist. Bob calls him a magic man, because he has mapped out what muscles fire and where to create strength. And as I was giving him a short history of my osteoporosis journey, Bob felt compelled to point one thing out…

“She fell last year and broke her neck.”

I had forgotten to mention it. The day before the election of Donald Trump I nearly killed myself. Oops. Did I subconsciously know what was about to happen? Have I blocked it so completely from my mind that all I could talk about was cleaning out the bird bath, keeling over and breaking my clavicle?

The smart bird feeder has been installed on the side of the garage. So far we have two house finches and a Carolina chickadee in residence. It’s actually a godsend. I pick up my phone to a notification that my Birdbuddy had a visitor, and I promptly forget what I was going to do. Instead I watch a video of a bird chowing down, on guard for any other visitors.

I guess this is how we are now, on guard, distilled to a primal fear of being gunned down in the street by masked men. First our president kidnaps Maduro, and then an ICE agent shoots a woman three times in the head for making good trouble.

How can I talk about my fear of falling again, when people I know and love are risking their lives simply by peacefully protesting this totalitarian government? The last time I was protesting at the TN State House, I actually thanked the state troopers for keeping us safe. I looked into their eyes.

But this is different.

We need more Republicans to wake up. When Mr T tells us that only his own sense of morality can stop him, we need to listen. Because he thinks he can get away with anything. He can slap his name on the Kennedy Center. He can demolish the East Wing of the White House. He can buy a country!

Well I’m not for sale. And there are millions of us who will fight for our constitution. We know the difference between a healthy separation of powers and a grifter selling wellness to a fearful citizenry.

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It’s not everyday that we wake to the news that our country is at war.

At Sunday dinner, I told my family this is the first time I’ve felt the way I did after 9/11. It’s a loosening of the joints, the ground feels sandy. There is a loss of trust in our country’s standing in the world, my sense of balance was off. Granted, there was no terrorist attack; Russia didn’t take over Alaska, or Florida as far as we know. We were the aggressor this time.

Naturally, I ordered a Smart Solar Pro Bird Feeder! Because when chaos happens, we humans need to zero in on the little things. I was hesitant to order a feeder with a camera attached because I knew it would call me to pick up my cell phone whenever a bird landed. I would become addicted. But I’ve missed feeding the birds of Nashville. Yesterday I walked out my front door and heard three distinct woodpeckers drumming their trees from the west, east and south!

Today Bob is walking around our backyard with a Google guy checking our WiFi signal. I want to hang the feeder far enough away from the house so our patio furniture stays relatively clean. I have memories of twenty doves taking up residence on our Germantown porch. This is how we become enmeshed in our hobbies, incrementally, over time. Hoarding doesn’t happen overnight. Like Mr T saying and doing things unbecoming to an American president…

One day we are blowing up supposed drug traffickers off the coast of Venezuela, and the next, America abducts its president and his wife? Today the “Coalition of the Willing” is meeting in Paris with Ukraine’s president, and Europe is betting on whether or not POTUS will invade GREENLAND! The KIngdom of Denmark, which includes Greenland, is part of NATO so what in God’s name is happening?

We know that MR T’s abduction (was he captured, arrested, or kidnapped?) of Maduro was not about spreading democracy, it’s all about the money and power that OIL has to offer:

“Venezuela has the largest estimated oil reserves in the world—accounting for about 17 percent of global reserves, or more than 300 billion barrels, according to Oil & Gas Journal. But Venezuela produces only 1 million barrels of oil a day. Its potential is largely unrealized because of poor infrastructure, mismanagement, limited resources, and U.S. sanctions.”  https://www.theatlantic.com/national-security/2026/01/trump-nicolas-maduro-venezuela/685493/

Would Greenland even put up a fight? What would happen to NATO? Is the point to destabilize the world order, or is Mr T just going after rare-earth minerals and uranium mining in the Arctic? Please call your Congressman or woman today. Let them know that all of this is illegal. Some one has to stand up for the rule of law. Some one has to actually read all 125,575 pages of the Epstein files and demand that the rest, about TWO MILLION documents, be released as per the agreement with the DOJ.

And we have to put up our new bird feeder. This is a Yellow-Crowned Night Heron who spent his days perched in a palm tree outside our vacation house. He watched the pelicans and the iguanas very closely! Luckily, we returned home before Caribbean airspace was closed.

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The news is seeping into my dreamy grandmotherly days.

Yes, I’m washing baby bottles, cuddling babies, and pitching in with household chores because twins… and every now and then I catch a glimpse of the rest of the world. I know there was a Hands Off protest in almost every major city around the world this past weekend. And I’m glad to see so many groups coalesce around the fight against totalitarianism.

But what really got to me was seeing Jewish and Palestinian students at Columbia University chain themselves to a fence in opposition to the school’s funding of Israel.

Don’t let the T administration fool you – they are twisting a biblical feud into a supposed fight against antisemitism. But by arresting, deporting and basically disappearing hundreds of valid college students studying here, in this country, legally btw, Mr T has shown his true colors. What has been happening on college campuses lately is truly Orwellian.

What were their crimes? Speaking freely about their opposition to bombing women and children in Gaza? Signing a petition equating the Israeli government with an apartheid system?

It may be hard to believe, for some MAGA Americans to believe, but Jewish Americans can love the state of Israel and still disagree with Netanyahu and his government’s policies. Just like we can love our country and wish with all our hearts that Harris was elected. Mr T is not doing us Jews any favors!

And this morning I read about a covert group, Canary Mission, that has been tracking activists in university settings all around the country for years:

“The group, which says its mission is to single out those who promote “hatred of the U.S.A., Israel and Jews on North American college campuses,” listed the names of seven students and academics, including three current and former professors at Columbia University.” https://www.nytimes.com/2025/04/01/us/israel-gaza-student-protests-canary-mission.html?smid=nytcore-ios-share&referringSource=articleShare

And a play about the McCarthy commission and Walter Winchell just opened on Broadway starring George Clooney, along with my neighbor Ann’s son, Mac Brandt. Ann escaped the Altadena fire and attended the opening night in NYC. I wonder, can we learn from our history?

Seventy years go, in Hollywood many Jewish artists made McCarthy’s black list. Today, our government is making another list in the guise of antisemitism. The canary is not only singing, it’s screaming.

Dinner on the deck with the twins in their Moses baskets.

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Along with a travel-size tube of lavender lotion, I crafted an eternity pearl necklace for her. Bob and I ordered tennis balls for her temporary/travel walker. Dr Jim arranged for a Fajitas and Margaritas lunch cruise on Lake Minnetonka and his friends threw her a celebratory brunch complete with her favorite coconut cake for dessert.

My big sister Kay turned 90!

We couldn’t have picked better weather for our visit to Minnesota. Dr Jim is the last connection our family has to the Land of 10,000 Lakes, and we all flew in like migratory birds last week from TN and NY. After Kay’s last fall, the one that broke her shoulder outside her Upper East Side apartment, she wanted to see her little brother ‘one last time’ and so we set up a Fall sibling reunion goal. We also thought we’d ‘help’ Dr Jim downsize into a pied-a-terre in the town of Excelsior.

But like most construction plans, his actual move-in date was delayed; birthdays however, arrive despite our best objections. Our Daughter-in-Love, Aunt Kiki, will turn thirty something this week. Ah, to be thirty again… The Bride received a blue Kitchen Aid stand mixer with a pasta attachment for her big day and mine will be the last of the September birthdays, a footnote to a momentous year.

According to my Native American horoscope, our September natal days come under the “Duck Fly Moon.” I’ve always called us Christmas Party babies, but maybe Autumnal Equinox sounds better? The Flapper introduced me to a book, “The Medicine Wheel,” about Native spirituality years ago. She was beginning her search for meaning, studying psychology and Buddhism. She spent her final years surrounded by sculptures of Buddha on the shore of Lake Minnetonka. With her two sons nearby, we would write letters to each other wondering about the state of the world.

This was the last time I routinely actually wrote letters!

First the Love Bug, followed by four more female Fall birthdays – 12 to 90 years old. We saw a family of wild turkeys crossing Dr Jim’s road. I glimpsed a white egret swoop into the trees behind his house. At least I think it was an egret, maybe it was a swan? We all saw loons floating on the lake. I remembered the whooping cranes flying south last month over Nashville after I read Margaret Renkl’s brilliant essay about blue jays and change. https://www.nytimes.com/2024/09/16/opinion/hope-social-problems-justice.html?unlocked_article_code=1.LU4.kgtX.2sZHo4nF3YuS&smid=url-share

My sister Kay is an artist. Her beautiful paintings are hanging all over the country, including right here in my snug. She was a single mom and a lipstick feminist back in the 50s and 60s, a glamorous stewardess for National Airlines. At her interview she was never weighed or measured, simply hired on the spot! National’s base was in Florida, but she flew around the world a few times! I loved visiting her Manhattan apartment as a teenager, right up the street from the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Guggenheim. We’d have lunch at the Madison Deli and she’d correct my country-bumpkin table manners at Lutece for dinner.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s can’t compare to her lifestyle then, and now she still walks with some help to Central Park nearly every day.. Kay taught me so much about life and love. As soon as I landed back home, I cleaned out the bird bath and replaced the small solar fountain. The cardinals and robins are getting used to the moving water, even guarding it at times. Our temperatures will be rising back into the 90s this week and I know our cardinal family will be sticking around, but we’ll be flying off again in a few weeks to France.

Happy Birthday Kay!

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“Bird” is simply working class (UK) slang for a woman. It’s not pejorative, but it’s not respectful or flattering either.

The Groom has developed a funny habit. Whenever he gets an advert text message, he texts back a random bird fact! Usually it’s a bot and he immediately stumps it. But sometimes it’s a human, and sometimes there’s a tacit recognition, a glimmer of humanity between the sender and the sendee. I wanted to tell him all about the crows making a racket next to my pool PT this morning, but then I remembered the family drove to Memphis at dawn..

They are being interviewed for Global Entry passports: “Global Entry is a U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) program that allows expedited clearance for pre-approved, low-risk travelers upon arrival in the United States. Members enter the United States by accessing the Global Entry processing technology at selected airports.” https://www.cbp.gov/travel/trusted-traveler-programs/global-entry

When we flew British Air to Italy, we breezed right through TSA checkpoints while the kids had to wait in long lines. It’s definitely worth the effort to apply for Global Entry if you fly out of the country. You feel a tiny bit royal coming back to the US. Being an avid Anglophile, I was delighted to be served “Coronation” tea sandwiches on board. I didn’t even mind being called, “Mum” by the flight attendants. When the pictures of Taylor Swift hit social media over the weekend, smiling with the Prince of Wales and his two oldest bairn, I was positively gobsmacked.

Then today I read (cue the lights) that Travis Kelce picked Tay Tay up like a bird on a London stage and carried the Queen to her throne chair.

The Love Bug had a fantastic week at Taylor Swift camp. She made a gorgeous tee shirt, lots of bead bracelets, and dove deep into the Swiftie phenom. I’m sure Yale will be offering the definitive course on Taylor soon enough.

Well, we’re all wilting aren’t we? Bob and I walked to the Farmer’s Market on Saturday for the first fresh garlic and barely made it home. It’s less than a mile, half up a gentle hill, but the heat index got me. Not so much the temperature, which was mid 90s, it’s the “real feel” as Aunt Kay calls it; a combo of humidity in the air and the subjective, apparent temperature we perceive. That was at least three digits! Nashville has been experiencing the same heat dome as everyone else, only I guess it’s pretty normal for us, except…

“It’s not even July yet people!”

The Pumpkin enjoyed robot camp too, and I’m just happy the camps were indoors during this heat spell. Naturally I’ve been keeping the Pumpkin’s bird bath refreshed twice daily. I love watching our robins, yes I believe these two are our babies recently hatched above the patio, indulging in water aerobics and taking a drink every now and then.

Yesterday I stood by the window marveling at our bird’s ingenuity and determination to get a berry. Bob covered the blackberry bush with mesh this year, hoping we’d actually have a harvest, but the birds have outsmarted us. The robin jumped up on a lawn light, squared off, and then hovered for a few seconds whilst plucking a berry through the mesh! This went on for quite awhile. I didn’t know a robin could impersonate a hummingbird. There’s another bird fact for you!

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My brother, Dr Jim, reminded me that our Father graduated from Columbia’s Pharmacy School back in the 1930s. I knew that Jim was a Columbia alum before heading to Vietnam, and found out that Bob’s cousin was set to graduate from its School of Social Work! We first met Zoe when she was born in Rumson, and now she’s a beautiful young woman about to embark on her career. Only she asked her parents not to come to her graduation, beause she didn’t think it would be safe.

This is what it’s like to be Jewish today.

Graduations across the country are being rescheduled and cancelled all together. Why? Well, it’s complicated and quite simple, a contradiction to be sure. Israel is fighting a deadly enemy at its border… and Palestinians deserve to live freely. We are all adult enough to hold these two constructs in our minds. But there are biblical grudges and terrorist power plays. The extremists on both sides are destroying the dream of two states.

What if a terrorist group took over Mexico? What would we do? Never mind: “Organized crime groups are turning Mexico’s elections into a literal battleground, making the campaign this year one of the deadliest in the country’s modern history. More than two dozen candidates have been killed leading up to the June 2 vote; hundreds have dropped out of the race. More than 400 have asked the federal government for security details. The campaign of intimidation and assassination is putting democracy itself at risk.” https://wapo.st/4bCae1Y

MORE THAN 24 CANDIDATES ARE DEAD? I had no idea; and yet here, right here in these United States, we have a candidate who rambles on about a serial killer at a rally, postulated he could get away with murder on Park Avenue, and most likely considered hanging his vice-president if it meant he could stay in office. I Just. Don’t. Get It. And granted, i’m not watching the Manhattan trial of Mr T, I’d rather watch paint dry. Because right on schedule, our robin babies graduated to the backyard!

It was the day after a night of tornado warnings – a beautiful, cool sunshiny morning.

There was mild whooping and clapping as our birds flew the nest. Bob and I watched the first baby robin, perching on the edge, take off right into our maple tree! I was expecting a gentle flapping of wings with a soft landing in my begonias. But it was a flawless finish for the alpha robin. I immediately called the Bride and listened to the whole family ohhh and ahhh. And as we were busy kvelling, the second baby flew all the way out to our back fence, landed on the grass and promptly hopped up into Bob’s raised bed of vegetables.

It was 7 am and I hadn’t even had a cup of coffee. And I really needed that first cup because I’d been sleeping with one eye open. The last, smallest robin was still sitting in the corner, crying for his mama. We watched her return with a worm, or maybe it was a cicada, and she must have had ‘the talk’ with him because she didn’t come back. Over the course of the morning, we noticed the baby move closer to the far edge, but we gave up our post by the back door and went on with our day. We noticed our empty nest around lunchtime, and we vowed to keep the Little Emperor away for awhile.

I thought to myself, “Now we are empty-nesters again.” The week before the flash flood warnings and tornado sightings, I’d been waking almost every night to check on the robin’s nest. One night I thought i heard an owl. Another night, gigantic squirrels were bowling on the patio’s tin roof! I was returning to that sleep-deprived delirium of bringing home a newborn.

I read that Jerry Seinfeld spoke at Duke’s graduation on Sunday, Bob and the Bride’s alma mater. The comedian who joked about ‘nothing’ seems to have found his voice. Only a couple dozen students walked out of the stadium when he appeared, out of 7,000. They rose and left peacefully, because Jerry has the audacity to support Israel, to proudly declare his Jewishness. This is part of what he said to the Duke Class of 2024:

Whatever you’re doing, I don’t care if it’s your job, your hobby, a relationship, getting a reservation at M Sushi,” he said. “Make an effort. Just pure, stupid, no-real-idea-what-I’m-doing-here effort. Effort always yields a positive value, even if the outcome of the effort is absolute failure of the desired result. This is a rule of life. Just swing the bat and pray is not a bad approach to a lot of things… also fall in love, not just with people, but anything and everything.”

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We’ve probably all been targets of internet trolls. People on our social networks who deliberately post provocative or humiliating comments would like nothing more than our response, our attention. Which is why it’s best to just ignore, block and report the trolls. Let them start a fight with someone else. But what if you’re walking along in a beautiful garden, dodging cicadas, and a gigantic, wooden troll appears out of nowhere? Well then, you engage. You listen.

Bob and I visited Cheekwood, Nashville’s Botanical Gardens last weekend to stroll among the whimsical sculptures in their Trolls exhibit: “Save the Humans.” It seems a Danish musician/artist, Thomas Dambo, has turned his creative sights towards crafting immense sculptures of trolls out of discarded construction pallets! They are not painted, they are meant to decay in fact. With one troll lying flat, listening to the earth, and another wearing recycled plastic jewelry, his message is clear.

Thomas is known internationally for his larger-than-life Troll sculptures made from recycled wood. With over 100 sculptures all over the world, these Trolls have begun to have a life of their own. Popping up in Denmark, the USA, France, Germany, China, South Korea, Chile, and many more on the way, the message of sustainability and unlimited imagination have reached millions through in-person visits, shared photos, and international media coverage.https://cheekwood.org/calendar-events/trolls-save-the-humans/

Once upon a time, Nordic people were sailing the seas, spreading their DNA along with their myths about giant trolls who lived in castles, not under bridges. According to Ancestry, I have a giant ONE percent Norwegian gene! You probably do too. Bob and I would love to visit Scandinavia next year. In fact, Norway looks like a fine first destination:

“On June 17, 2023, what they call the world’s first and only research station for the species of trolls opened in Rindal. “Home of the Trolls” is not just a research station for trolls. It is also a nature-based experiential destination with activities, outdoor adventures, local food, and exotic accommodation options.” https://www.visitnorway.com/things-to-do/art-culture/the-mythical-norwegian-trolls/

I wonder if the US would ever open a research station for Bigfoot? This morning, after sweeping more than enough cicada exoskeletons from the patio, I may have glanced at all the gowns celebrities wore to the Met Gala last weekend. Its theme was “The Garden of Time,” and aside from all the flowers and feathers one thing stood out to me – the hundreds of hours it took to hand embroider and create one. single. dress.

What is Mother Nature telling us? Giving us another solar eclipse, directing two cicada species to emerge from the ground simultaneously? Placing enormous, sweet Trolls in our path? Amid the constant drumbeat of two proxy wars, I think we must continue to plant and nurture our own gardens for as long as we can. Because 3 baby robins are flapping their wings over our patio, and they need the worms.

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Yesterday, the mama robin aggressively chased a squirrel out of our backyard. First he ran up our maple tree, then he jumped to the fence, and she kept at him, dive-bombing him out of sight. I knew she had babies to feed, because after family dinner Sunday night we all got to see them. Nerd Alert – Bob and the Groom hooked up a fiber optic scope to a broom and gingerly raised it above the robin’s nest in the corner eave of our patio – 3 little yellow beaks attached to fuzz appeared on the monitor!

It was a welcome sight.

Last weekend a perfectly healthy young man, a local chef, died running the St Jude’s Nashville Marathon. He collapsed at the 22 mile marker, and the Bride was on duty at her hospital. It is never easy on the first responders and the medical team when a young person dies. Bob has treated his fair share of accidental deaths; a toddler falling into a hot tub, a child slipping through the ice. It takes a toll.

But this is my daughter, and she has children of her own. Now she was tasked with consoling another mother – do they teach this in medical school? The runner’s whole family came from NY to watch him achieve his goal. His name is Joe Fecci and he was 26 years old, may his memory be a blessing. A Top Chef winner he worked with over the years posted this on Insta:

“I keep telling myself not to just keep asking why, but it’s hard. because i’m fucking angry and i’m heartbroken but i am grateful. i’m grateful i hired a 19 yo kid from new york sight unseen bc he sent me an email. i’m grateful he spent two years sharing a kitchen with me.”

https://people.com/joey-fecci-chef-26-dies-running-nashville-half-marathon-8640818

Almost every evening after dinner, Bob and I will take a short stroll and end up sitting on our patio. We watch the robin pair take turns feeding their fledglings. Baby rabbits chase each other around our cherry tree. But it’s not a Disneyesque moviescape. We also hear the never-ending sounds of destruction construction around us – the saws, the drills, the trees falling. I think about our fragility in the world, and how lightly we should tread. I’ve finished planting flower pots in shades of pink and purple blooms, I want to surround our small cottage with beauty.

And Bob has planted his vegetables in raised beds so as not to feed the rabbits. But they need to eat too don’t you think? Here on Saturday, we stopped for a picture at the Farmer’s Market with our cousins and their delightful friends from NJ. They are younger, their children are in college, grad schools and working their first jobs. They are in-waiting for grandchildren. We are all defending our nests.

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What do you do when a bird decides to build her nest on your porch?

One of my favorite non-profits, besides Planned Parenthood, is the Audubon Society. I love perusing their magazine, soaking up stories of our feathered friends along with gorgeous photography. The new Spring cover shot is of a spindly-legged Wilson’s Phalarope (picture a large Piping Plover) standing on one foot, and the title of the issue is “Delicate Balance.” But the article that intrigued me the most on the inside was about cats – “Where the Not-So-Wild Things Roam.” It’s a funny and disturbing story about a cat called “Bad Kitty.”

Did you know that domestic cats that are allowed outside to roam about their neighborhoods are responsible for killing almost 1.3 BILLION birds a year? That’s just in this country alone. Now don’t get me wrong, I love cats. I can’t help it if half my family is allergic. When I was young and lived alone in NJ, Henry was my everything, my calico red cat. He looked like Edward G Robinson because at some point in his past street-life his jaw was broken. He had a short crooked tail too.

Henry and I would walk through the woods every weekend, without a leash. Of course, every now and then he’d have to zoom off but he’d always return. My cat had the run of The Great Swamp National Wildlife Refuge at all hours. In the early 70s, along with mom jeans, I didn’t know better.

The Audubon article suggests buying a large colorful collar for your cat, https://www.birdsbesafe.com/ if you must let them outside. Bells do nothing to alert a nesting cardinal. Birds however will see a feline approach if they look like they’re wearing a bright, hysterical clown collar. Better yet, if being in the great outdoors is essential to your feline’s well being, the author suggests building a “Catio!” Imagine a screened in porch standing alone with lots of cat architectural climbing details incorporated into its design.

I mean I used to let Aunt Kiki’s cat out on our sleeping porch in the Blue Ridge, and she did enjoy it – the view, the wind, the bears and the bluebirds. If you’re not into DYI, you could buy a Catio for a small fortune…

Yesterday I was hosting the little Frenchie Emperor for the afternoon, and he didn’t understand why I wouldn’t let him out the back door. I patiently explained that a robin was sitting on her nest directly outside between the pillars of my covered porch. He’s very cat-like in that he loves to chase birds almost as much as he loves to chase rabbits. I would open the side door and he’d look up at me like I was crazy, like it was absurd to go into the backyard through the side door when there was a perfectly fine and faster entry Right Over There.

“Rarely do we get this opportunity to get a front-row seat to a wild organism starting its life,” says Brian Evans, a migratory bird ecologist and project lead at the bird observatory at the Smithsonian National Zoo. “All we have to do is start noticing.”

https://www.washingtonpost.com/home/2024/04/15/how-to-keep-bird-nest-safe/

AND DO NOTHING. When a bird builds her nest in or around your house, just sit back and enjoy the spectacle. I put out ribbons for her pleasure but I don’t think she used them. And I noticed that when the dog was in the yard, she flew away and seemed agitated flying haphazardly around the fence. But when my neighbor came by and we sat talking underneath her nest, she stayed put! Birds are smarter than we think.

I’ve resigned myself to the early birdsong and the messy patio furniture, and hope that some squirrel or other creature doesn’t discover her nest. I figure it’s better than listening to the news in Israel, or Mr T’s trial in NY. I can’t worry about November with Passover approaching. It’s time to clean out the tsuris (troubles but also flour in Yiddish) from our lives. And pick the flowers in my garden.

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