I Did A Bad Bad Thing
Yesterday while I was cleaning up under my carport I noticed a birds nest in the corner.
I suspected there was a nest nearby because of all the bird crap on my patio furniture.
I got the ladder out and peeked into the nest.
Because there were neither eggs nor baby birds in the nest, I assumed it was vacant and that I could take it down.
Oliver, Freya and I were excited to be able to examine a bird nest so close.
We spent the better part of an hour slowly and carefully taking it apart.
(We only slightly noticed a small chickadee bopping about and screeching at us.)
The bits and bobs the bird used to make the nest were incredible.
Why the entire circumference of the nest was covered in thick bird crap is a mystery.
Was it used to cement twigs together?
I imagine it took a great deal of time to gather all the twigs, grass, string, cigarette filters and twine.
Add to that the time the sweet bird spent weaving together all that nest building stuff.
The mama chickadee would fly under the carport where her nest had been, to the dead peach tree above us and then to the cement behind us flapping chirping and panicking.
Finding the nest with neither eggs nor baby birds, I destroyed it.