|Clothespin bag with nesting material.|
I like to think of this tiny bird, finding a place to call home in an ordinary household object. I like that she came to us and feels safe here. I'm surprised she feels safe with the back door opening and closing, and three dogs barreling in and out a bazillion times a day. People coming in and out. But this is where she built her nest.
For the longest time, I wasn't sure if she'd laid any eggs or not, and if she did, if any hatched. But try as I may, I haven't been able to see any. I took this view, but only saw a nice snug hole in there.
But lately she's been busy going back and forth, with a worm or bug in her mouth. In and out of the clothespin bag. I hear tiny peeps. Babies! Here she is, skittering across the roof of the garage and then flying down to her nest.
Sometimes Ike hears tiny peeps and stops and stares at the clothespin bag. Kelly and Zeke don't seem to notice, but Ike knows she's there, and her babies.
Some day before too long, the baby birds will grow up, get stronger, and fledge the nest. And then the clothespin bag bird will leave.
I like to think she'll come back again next year.
|Mama wren on the peak of the garage.|
|Now she's jumped down to the little table.|
|Here she is, perched atop the bag.|
|Can you see her feet and tail? She's in there, feeding the baby birds.|