We have a
hanging fern plant. Yesterday the fern
sounded like a big bird party was coming from it. There were chirping, screaming, and
tweeting. In a way, they tweeted more drastically
than Trump.
I think yesterday
was the day the parent birds, Wrens, I think, decided it was time for the baby
birds to be booted from their nest and find someplace else to live.
I tried
taking pictures but the birds were not in a posing mood. They had a new phase in their young lives to
deal with. I found this picture on Google.
I knew there
was a bird sitting on eggs in the fern plant, actually she and hubby are the
second couple that moved in that I know of.
Every time I watered the ferns a
bird would shoot out of the greenery and would return after I left.
It was
interesting to see partly the process of the graduation ceremony. Apparently, Mom and Dad Bird would pick one
of their young ones, and nudge it to the edge of the nest and somehow root it
out into mid-air and it would either sink or swim, I mean fly. I saw one fall through the air and hit the
carport payment, but quickly fluttered
his wings and he went and perched on a slat in the lattice, and I think I heard it squawk, "I can fly!"
One took off
like Peter Pan, went down then up and landed on a branch in a nearby bush. The parents hurried over to give it moral
support and maybe some advice.
Once I saw
four birds, which I think were the two parents and two young ones on a limb
overlooking the carport. One of them
were learning how to keep its balance with the help of flapping his wings.
They have a
lot to learn. Rule number one: Stay away from Willow and the neighborhood
cat.
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