Birds' Nest

Killdeer Nest with Four Eggs

We noticed the bird, a killdeer, hovering around the corner of our driveway. She would make herself scarce every time we came by.

Since we work at home, “every time we came by” was quite often.

My daughter Kitten and I were biking together when we first noticed something was different. The killdeer raised her wings when we came near, but didn’t move until the last second.

The mama bird was laying four tiny speckled eggs in her nest in the rocks.

They’re difficult to see.  Nature is clever that way.

The expectant mother bird put on a show every time we wandered over.

She would leave the nest once we came within a few yards, and “pretend” to be injured by dragging one wing.

What an actress!  She was trying to lure us away from her eggs.

It’s a killdeer thing.

It didn’t sit right, though. That mama took off whenever we were near, leaving her nest exposed.

“She’s not much of a mother”, I muttered sanctimoniously one afternoon as she left the eggs on their own again.

But I came to reconsider that view.

By instinct she had one card to play, and she never ceased to pull it out.

It might not have been my way, but it was hers.

She was marching to the beat of her own drummer.

We all have a card to play. We have diverse points of view.

We are good at different things.

Our individual differences colour who we are, and as a group provides the texture and the light. 

Of course, things don’t always work out the way we might wish.

Things happen.

Empty Killdeer Nest

Coyotes happen.

Our job or relationship may not always turn out the way we want.

All we can do is try again next time.

A little wiser perhaps, a little scuffed around the edges, a few feathers missing.

I’m sure that mama bird will try again next spring.

Maybe she’ll hide her nest better next year. Maybe she won’t.

But she will try again.
 

 

 

 

 

 

Mouse in the Greenhouse

Mice on the farm.
Image from http://www.wpclipart.com/

The only mice I like are the ones who wear clothes.

Mickey Mouse, Minnie, Speedy Gonzalez, and Cinderella’s little helpers are all fine.

But the real naked rodents are not my friends, even if they could learn to sing, tap dance, or sew my clothes.

Recently we lost dozens of toddler pepper plants to a marauding mouse living the high life in the greenhouse. A few traps later, a bit of hot dog, and the problem was solved.

But alas, it was too late for our peppers.

Mice have always given me shivers up my spine.

When I was in university, a mouse, perhaps dislodged from its timeshare by nearby road construction, took solace in my apartment.

Obviously, one of us was going to have to go.

I threw some clothes together and high tailed it out of there.

A generous relative put me up for the duration of my self-imposed exile, and an indulgent landlord disposed of my new roommate.

I am grateful to my family who drove two hours to help clean the place once the all-clear was sounded. (Typical roomie, have to clean up after them.) We had spring cleaning in September that year.

One little mouse brought a lot of generosity of spirit, all aimed in my direction. (Perhaps they are good for something after all?)

According to a pest control company I consulted, here are a few tips to deal with mice:

1.       Search the outside of your dwelling. Look for any openings through which you can stick a pen (near cable or other wires, for example).  Mice can collapse their lungs to fit through an opening that small. Stuff such openings with steel wool.

 

2.       Mice will only travel short distances from their nest, and usually no more than 20 feet. If you are putting out mice bait (preferably in bait boxes too small for other animals to access), do so in concentric rings around your dwelling. Think of a target with your home as the bull’s eye. Replenish the bait until it is no longer disappearing. Then go further to the next ring and repeat, so that a perimeter is maintained.

3.       Mice populations are on a seven year cycle. If you are hard hit one year, you may get off easy the next if the cycle is beginning again.

 

Animals Love Vegetables

A vegetable farm attracts lots of wild animals. We’ve had deer (see previous deer post here) that need to be shooed off the field, marmots (like a beaver without the tail), and scores of birds.

 We enjoy seeing hawks and ospreys circle slowly over the fields.

 An electricity company has built a platform on top of one of their power poles to accommodate the osprey, and put a webcam directly above it. Take a look at the live webcam of the osprey nest.

 We also have rodents. I have a healthy fear of mice. This means that I am scared to death of them. My husband says I have a special scream just for mice.

 Last fall I was harvesting squash ("harvesting" sounds better than bend over, cut the stem, push the squash into a pile, repeat). My husband wondered why I left the field in such a hurry.

“There was a rustle!”, I explained. “A rustle?” enquired my fearless husband. “Yes, I wasn’t alone in the pumpkin patch. So, obviously, one of us had to leave. Quickly.”

Before I met my husband, I once had a mouse in my apartment. I left. I don’t mean that I just left for the day. I packed a bag and moved in with a relative for the duration.

 Such a fear of mice might seem unusual for a woman who now lives on a vegetable farm. Well, it’s not ideal.