For
weeks I've heard nothing, no call of robins, no chortle of finches;
the bird song has become non-existent. While it saddens me I
understand nature. The young ones have left the nest so there is no
need for their parents to sing them awake to begin their survival
training.
I shall
remember the two broods of robins nesting upon the side door light.
The first brood was exciting to watch but when the second began not
three weeks later, I held my breath. They all survived though their
parents were thin and worn.
The blue
jays, with three spawn, were a delight to watch. The parents brought
them into The Pond nightly to quench their thrist while they searched
for supper. They are truely clowns when left on their own, and I
took such pleasure in watching their antics.
Of
course the sparrow who has alighted here for years dropped in for his
daily bath. I am unsure if it's the same one but the habits are too
similiar to be another. I could superimpose photos each year and its
schedules are the same. Alighting in the shrubs, pecking about, then
diving into the bird bath for a shower, then flying to the cedar for
prunning. It had to be him!
The
doves, those mourning doves, with such a sad song. Parents nesting
across the street would drop their two dovelings? at The Pond. For
weeks I watched while the two siblings cuddled til a parent flew in
with a mouth full of food. They both ate well, and I am sure they
are the ones now gleaning the sidewalks for seeds..
I'll
never forget the pileated woodpecker. He was huge and bright! His
squawk always announced his arrival as he landed in the old maple
tree every few days to bore into rotten limbs. With a beak full of
worms his lady would alight and they would share the meal.
As
autumn draws near, their summer voices have been silenced as they
seek comfort in the wild. I wish I could join them...
