Fly Away (from) Home

July 2, 2007. Today was the day.

I breakfasted on the front porch in order to observe our Eastern Phoebe fledglings as I ate. They certainly were noisier ... and larger. One parental feeding revealed four baby birds, as evidenced by four beaks pointed straight up to receive one much-awaited insect, not three babies as previously thought.

The peeping continued unabated until I opened the front door underneath their nest to let the cat out. Suddenly, all was quiet. The most visible baby directly in front stretched, spread its wings, then turned and climbed over her/his siblings' heads to relocate in the rear.

One parent flew near the nest several times which inspired a loud and insistent chorus but no meal was forthcoming. Clearly, no amount of lobbying was going to draw mom or dad closer. Unexpectedly, all four birds began to push and agitate for a better location. One baby, now several, tumbled out of the nest onto their human-built wooden deck. Wings stretched and babies moved, hopped, and turned. Suddenly and unexpectedly, one fledgling took flight and landed on the branch of a nearby tree. Just like that! Could it be that easy?

Within a minute or two each bird swooshed into the air to the cover of the nearby forest until there was only one fledgling left. S/he was, actually, the first baby to tumble out of the nest onto the deck. After tipping close to the edge several times and waiting, waiting, waiting to no avail, this bird, too, swooped to a nearby branch. The nest was empty!

Both Frances and I climbed a ladder to confirm that the nest was vacant. Now I know what empty nest syndrome feels like! I miss those little peepers. Life won't be the same without them right outside my kitchen window. I hope I continue to hear and see them in the coming days.

(Photos to come when we figure out how to upload and post them!)

Nestlings, June 30

The Eastern Phoebe nest above our kitchen window contains several young 'uns hatched more than a week ago, family size uncertain. First we heard tiny peeps through our open window. Then, when a parent flew in for feedings, Frances dashed from kitchen to porch to peer at the nest. Finally some tiny heads surfaced!

Initially several baby heads were mostly visible over the edge of the nest though eyes were closed and bodies asleep. Since I could see only heads with a fluff of down protruding from the crowns I wondered, is this where the phrase "sleepyhead" originated?

Now as bodies expand and grow feathers, nest size shrinks. More body parts emerge into view. Frances just took a picture that indicates at least three siblings share these living quarters.

This is our third year of conscientious Eastern Phoebe co-parenting. Initially a pair constructed their nest of mud, grass, and moss above the narrow strip of window frame under the front eaves of our house. We marveled at their derringdo, balancing nest and young atop such a fragile foundation. Last year we grew tired of the mud and dirt slopped across our just-washed windows during nest reconstruction. Frances added a small wooden shelf beneath their nesting site which she attached to a piece of wood that spanned the window. It provided the Phoebes with nest space AND a deck.

This year, nest construction went so smoothly that we were minimally aware of parental comings and goings. According to our bird guides, fledgling stage lasts a mere 15-16 days so these babes will vacate their nest long before we're ready to see them go. Last year they launched their first flight on a day drenched with unending downpours. We worried whether these novice pilots could survive such a storm after vacating their safe, dry home. It's our best guess that they did since they're back again this year.

The Eastern Phoebe is one of the most identifiable bird species I've met here. Their characteristic repetitious song "phoe-be" is a favorite refrain. A species of flycatcher, they perch on an exposed tree branch right beside our porch from which they sail forth on their short insect hunting expeditions. To me, their most distinctive and endearing feature is the tail bobbing they engage in while at rest.

What a gift we have in these wee gray-green birds who bring daily enjoyment to our life in the forest. We couldn't ask for a better tenant to share space under our roof.