Nesting

Nesting

Spring/Summer 2019

July 8 - Mourning Dove nest in White Oak tree next to our house

Since we live in the country, surrounded by various kinds of habitats, I know that there must be many nests all around us – in the woods, in the trees around the gardens and house, in the fields, in eaves, tucked into all sorts of places. Last year a Carolina Wren built a prodigious nest below the outside of the PTAC unit, below the bay window. The year before I found a nest of an Eastern Phoebe tucked under the overhang of the barn. Sometimes we have muddy nests of Barn Swallows up in the barn rafters.

This year I came upon a rabbit's next just below the top edge of the woods, but it had already been abandoned.

April 13

I find places in the woods where fawns have been tucked away, as well as openings under shrubs, burrows in the ground, holes in trees (low and high). One year I found five tiny baby Raccoons in a low tree hole.

I know Summer Tanagers nest not far from my house because every year the male yells about it all day, every day, for much of the summer. I have seen both the male and female, but have never found their nest. By the cacophony of bird song and calls, especially in the morning, I know our area must be laden with all sizes of nests, with various types of construction (and, sometimes no real construction).

The Mourning Doves are always busy, and their activity sometimes belies their nest locations. I often wonder how so many Mourning Doves make it to adulthood when I see their haphazard nests, sometimes perched in precarious spots. I really don't know how they make it through storms – and we've already had plenty of storms this year!

June 25 - Mourning Dove in her nest in the large Crabapple tree

I'm sure that, this early summer, I saw the fledged young of the first brood from the Crabapple tree, with fresh, pinkish feathers, exploring the world around our house, and that Mom was working on a second brood at that same time.

And, now, the story of a new, unusual nest for this year.

During the winter, I had hung an old cobalt-blue teapot from a branch of the Volunteer Peach Tree (VPT), near the edge of the Herb Garden Transformation Project (HGTP).

January 26

January 26

I kept it filled with black sunflower seed, and it became a popular spot, hanging on the VPT along with a couple of other bird feeders, as the VPT developed buds, then tiny leaves peppered the branches. Leaves grew and started filling in spaces, but still I was able to see the blue teapot.

April 6

April 7 - A dark blue spot in a tree - the teapot

Mostly small birds came, but larger birds, such as Cardinals and Blue Jays, would sit on an adjacent branch and grab some seeds from the teapot. Very small birds would often fly all the way inside, sitting on the seed, taking time, having a feast. Sometimes one would use the teapot as shelter from the rain.

May 1

May 1 - Gimme shelter!

I could sit on the screened porch and watch all the coming and going.

Eventually the leaves of the VPT burst into full size, filling in almost all the spaces, so that I could not see even the deep blue of the teapot from the porch. But, I could still watch birds coming and going, into and out of the tree. 

May 8 - The very full VPT at the far end of the HGTP

May 8 - I challenge you to find the teapot!

And, eventually, I quit putting seed in the teapot, and in any of the feeders. I waited until I knew there would be plenty of insects and larvae for the birds to eat, as they would be switching to this now available higher protein diet for the intense energy period of defending territory, building nests, and feeding young. And, so, the teapot hung there empty for awhile.

June 21 - Sunflowers next to the VPT

There was one opening in the leafy branches of the VPT through which I could see the teapot. One day I walked by and something caught my eye, because it looked different from the usual.

June 21

Someone had been building a nest in the teapot!! I had no idea that had been going on. The bird had very artfully encircled the inside of the teapot “door” (the part where, if one were using it as a teapot, one would pour in the water) with a lovely collection of grasses, dry leaves, and seed heads. 

What kind of bird would be doing this? I posted the photos on Facebook to see if anyone knew. There were some guesses, but nothing definitive. I started watching the teapot more closely, to see if I could solve the mystery of Teapot Bird.

One day, I was able to see the top of Momma Teapot Bird's head, her eyes, her beak. When she or Father Teapot Bird flew to and from the nest, it happened so fast that I never had a good look at the rest of their bodies. But, I had some clues from the head. The beak was small, thin, very pointed. The head was sort of flattish and streamlined. That ruled out some kinds of small birds.

June 25 - There she is!

I got out my guide to birds' nests and started looking for something that might build a nest in a place like that, out of those kinds of materials. What I came up with was Tree Swallow. Everything made sense, especially that they will build nests in all sorts of birdhouses, as well as mail boxes and other advantageous places. I realized that the many birds that line the wires in late summer and early fall, swooping over the crop fields catching insects, were Tree Swallows. And I had seen Tree Swallows using Bluebird nest boxes at Coffee Creek Watershed Preserve near Chesterton, Indiana, as well as, this year, along the Clear Creek Trail in Bloomington, Indiana.

May 15 - Tree Swallow on a Bluebird nesting box along the Clear Creek Trail, Bloomington, Indiana  Look at that little streamlined, flattish head – I'm sure it's the same thing!

Later, I stopped to look in the teapot and, instead of an adult head, I'd see as few very tiny heads, and even very tiny beaks sticking up.

July 8 - Barely seen Teapot Babies

July 8 - If I had a camera with a better zoom, it would be easier for you to see the tiny head and beaks in there.

Once in a great while I'd stop and look again, but I wanted to disturb the birds as little as possible. I looked from the outer edge of the VPT branches, though one time I did step further into the branches for a closer look.

One morning I was sitting on the screened porch, enjoying the blooming plants and the abundant bird song – from the woods to my left, the field to my right, and the gardens and fruit trees before me. I saw rustlings at the VPT, birds going in and out. Then I heard what sounded to me like very excitable sounds. I thought of what that might be about. Did another kind of bird get too close to the nest, and the parents were chasing, warning, scolding? Or was it another kind of bird making the excited sounds?

The next morning I was hurrying to my truck with just enough time to get to and appointment in town. As I hurried past the VPT, another sight caught my eye, and I had to stop, if just for a brief time. Three fluffy baby birds were sitting straight up, just inside the edge of the teapot “door”, beaks all pointed outward, watching me intently.

Unfortunately, I did not have my camera, and I had no time to run back in to get it.

Later that day I checked again, but saw nothing. I hoped they had just tucked themselves deep into the nest during the heat of the day. I checked each day, different times of day, and saw nothing. I also saw no more activity around the VPT, no one going in and out of the branches.

Now I wonder if the ruckus I heard previously had been the day the babies ventured out for the first time, among the branches of the VPT. The excited calls could have been the parent, or parents, encouraging the Teapot Babies to come out farther, and some of it could have been the babies themselves. And, I wondered if the next morning, when I saw them perched at the teapot edge, was the day they truly fledged and left the nest for good.

I wish I had been there to see that.

June 30 - The Herb Garden Transformation Project - Volunteer Peach Tree on the far left

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

April 2019

Richard, Silas and Pester on March 22, 2019

“There is nothing permanent except change.”

Heraclitus

Like many people, we wanted a place in the country, and years ago we made that happen.

Ours became a place not just “in” the country, but part of the country it is in. We rescued our acreage from the damages that were being done to some of it.

We tucked in a little house well off the road, adding to it here and there over the years. We added very few outbuildings. The barn was built way in the back, on a spot the former owner had already scraped up, that he intended as a future office for his planned mobile home court.

November 6, 2017 - Our homestead from up the road - imagine this as a mobile home court

The land remained in crops and woodland, except for the large area in front that has consisted of many gardens, fruit trees, and resting cover crop plots. We've made many changes over the years, but always with respect to this land, always keeping the views we have been so fortunate to enjoy - of woods, fields, sunrise, sunset, starry sky.

I created this blog as philosophical writing springing from the views out our windows. Those views rarely change, except for the changes that come with seasons and the weather, changes in a garden, or some small change we've created (a new fence, a new tree, etc.).

Over the years, our views out the front windows have not really changed much. Since 1986, we've watched families grow and change at the homestead that has been across the road since the 1940's. We have had a clear view of “neighbor Fred”, across the broad crop field, where we see him stroll from house to barn, then hear the buzz of power tools and wonder what new thing he is creating. The only thing we have seen between our place and his has been occasional farm machinery working the field.

September 24, 2018 - our crop field on the right

March 21, 2018 - the tiny glimmer of Fred and Mary's lights across the snowy landscape

October 14, 2014 view from the screened porch

October 14, 2014 - unobscured view of the distant tree line from the screened porch

Every other year, when I walk down the road, I have walked through a tunnel of tall corn growing in our field and the one across.

August 7, 2017

Shortly after we moved here, a retired couple built a nice little A-frame that is somewhat visible from our place. But, they purposely tucked it into a tree-surrounded clearing, and took care of all of the trees (and associated wildlife) on their land. We became very good friends.

Much of the year, our views of distant places and horizons are obscured by the growth of summer, autumn leaves, and our busy-ness with our own activities, including gardening and renovations.

September 23, 2018

October 2, 2018

Little did we know how much our view would change, how utterly different things would look from out front windows, especially during the times of year when our view is not obscured. And we really had hardly any warning (which is unusual out here).

During the summer of 2018, I paced out a future “prairie plot” at the front of our property, above the road (and above where the blades of the county mower would reach). I laid down plastic that was intended to work as a “burn-out”, killing the grass underneath so that I could plant in 2019. My intention was (and is) to put in meadow plants native to our area, and to add on plots every year until the garden stretches across the front area. It would be obviously visible to all who drive/walk/bicycle by. The plan is to register the garden with everything I can (National Wildlife, Million Pollinator Gardens project, etc.) and get signs for each one to put along the front. In other words, this native meadow is intended to serve the neighbors and passers-by with enjoyment as well as education.

While I was beginning the plot, trucks and equipment started showing up on the farmland across the road. Since it was not agricultural equipment, none of it seemed to me to belong there.

August 24, 2018

Over time, more and more trucks and equipment arrived. They moved right onto the land.

Then, earth was being moved.

October 25, 2018 - Equipment barely seen through our trees

This view just seemed too weird!

During the period leading up to Christmas, rapid activity took place. A house started to take shape. At this point, our view became drastically altered. This new view was being incorporated into our regular activities.

October 29 2018 - this is not farm equipment

October 30, 2018 - another view, from the road - our homestead in the center distance

November 1, 2018 - equipment seen through the trees on the left

November 14, 2018

December 11, 2018 - Suddenly, a house!

December 23, 2018 - Hawthorn berries, with new house in distance (far right)

I found myself trying to come to terms with this. After all, we'd had the same open, bucolic view for thirty-two years!! The only thing I missed was the group of Weeping Willows that used to grace the far side of the field. They were the first brush of light green I would see in early spring from our windows. But, they were removed long ago. I had since learned that Weeping Willows are not only not native here, but possibly invasive.

Every day I wondered – how long was it going to take me to get used to a house being – right there?? They were building not far from the road, and not far from the next (1940's) homestead, unlike anyone else. 

January 9, 2019

January 10, 2019

January 11, 2019

January 19, 2019

January 26, 2019

February 13, 2019

We had seen very few homes added since we had added ours. All have been tucked well off the road, or in the nooks near groves of trees, pretty much a part of their landscape. One family even converted a lean-to machine shed into a small house!! Mainly, houses here have been unobtrusive. They have fit in. And rarely have they taken farmland out of production (with the exception of one estate down the road).

But, this new house is the first one to seem … suburban. On farm land. Close to the road. It's just so … right there, at least from our point of view (and neighbor Fred's).

“Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change”

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, in Frankenstein

People who already live in a suburban situation might not understand my feelings. They've been living in a place where almost everything is like that.

But, this place – it was never like that. Homes have come and gone over many years before Richard and I arrived, and sometimes I'm surprised by the descriptions when I learn a new part of this immediate area's history. Still, they always have been a part of their surroundings, not abodes suddenly appearing in the open – on farmland. It's just never been like that here.

“If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude.”

Maya Angelou

But, I'm a positive, optimistic person who does not stay long disappointed, but looks for solutions or a new attitude.

I know that these are nice people, and they will be good neighbors. I sometimes watch their industriousness in accomplishing this goal, and sense their excitement as it becomes, visibly, closer to what they envision as their home, which reminds me of our own excitement when our little home was taking shape. I hear the excitement in their voices when their little grand-daughter comes skipping over from next door, so delighted that her grandparents will be her neighbors. I see the four young Oak trees that were temporarily removed, tucked in carefully to a mound of earth, awaiting replanting, and I wonder where they will be planted, where I will see them become taller and larger. I see an enclosed porch appear in back and can imagine them looking forward to spending time there, enjoying the breezes and birdsong, just as we do on our screened porch (but, I wonder if they realize how close they are to the buzzing sound of Neighbor Fred's power tools). I wonder what kind of Christmas decorations they might display.

“The world as we have created it is a process of our thinking. It cannot be changed without changing our thinking.”

Albert Einstein

Otherwise, I have certain strong hopes. I hope that they put in native plants, or at least not plant anything invasive (our county's new invasive plants ordinance does not go into effect until January of next year!) I hope they do not put up a “security light”. Those are unnecessary out here (we started out with one and soon found that out) and they add further to “light pollution”, making this wonderful starry sky less starry. I hope that they will feel free to stop and talk with us, and that we will get to know each other. For years, this has been a real “country place” where all neighbors (and that means people within a few miles radius) knew each other, would stop by to talk with you if you were outside working, would share things, would look out for each other. Some newer neighbors have not had that same sense of “country neighbors”, and that is a change I really regret to see.

Meanwhile, I am trying to get used to a house being … right there.

March 4, 2019

March 9, 2019 - storm

The thought has crossed my mind, in recent years; “What if so many people move into this area, so many new homes are built (on former farmland) that it becomes more like a 'burb'? What if it gets more like the large acreage behind ours that was once rolling farmland with a house and outbuildings in the middle, that we used to think of as resembling James Herriott country, but which became a subdivision full of many houses? I have never gotten used to seeing the houses at the back of that, hearing cars on that gravel road, etc.

I made myself turn around and face that thought … just in case. We don't currently have plans to move. We've been working hard on this place for years. It is home.

But, what if?

I thought about things I could do to move along with that, but retain what we are:

• Keep doing all that we do – woodland, gardens, orchard, encouraging wildlife, cleaning out invasive plants, having a farmer work our crop fields.
• Keep developing the “prairie plots”, or meadows, across the front, with the registry signs.
• Put up a pay-in-kind vegetable stand out front (and, if we ever have chickens again, a spot also to sell excess eggs)
• Share things with neighbors: garden produce (and maybe eggs), homemade bread, seeds, skills they might need that we have, stories of people who used to live here, etc.
•  If I ever get those two Nubian (pet) goats - offer to take them to neighbors' places to eat down their weeds.
• Put up a “Little Free Library” out front, between the prairie plots and driveway, for people to share books. I would make it colorful, whimsical, really fun and unique.
  https://littlefreelibrary.org/
• Play music on the porch – often – letting traditional Irish music flow out across our land to the ears of anyone living nearby or passing by.
• Put our acreage in some kind of land trust to preserve it in perpetuity, so there will always be a spot of country and woodland left, no matter what else happens.

March 30, 2019 - Now two homesteads across the road, the old and the new

Mostly, though, just hope for the best, and …

“Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don't resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.”

Lao Tzu