Bye-bye birdie
With my newfound freedom, I've been working like a crazed gardening fool in my little plot of earth. It's been heaven! Yes, I said heaven, hubby o' mine, even though you can't believe that I find digging, weeding, planting, hauling mulch and all other gardening activities a pleasure. So much so that I can't even call them chores. That's not to say I don't groan while I work and nurse aching muscles later but I'd much rather be out there than almost anywhere else (a tropical beach with balmy ocean breezes would be an acceptable alternative).
I'm not the only one happy with my excess of gardening time. My robins (yes, I claim them as mine) are delighted to see me every day. They follow me everywhere in the garden, impatiently waiting for me to turn up grubs and worms for an easy-picking meal to take back to their nest of hungry hatchlings. Almost as soon as I turned over the soil, they were at my feet, stuffing their beaks while keeping one eye on me. I told myself that they somehow knew I could be trusted. To encourage ever closer encounters, I'd become motionless when they drew near. I'd watch them watch me, marveling at their brazeness. In just a few days' time, they became so accustomed to me that they grew bolder and came closer, not wanting a single juicy, squirming worm to escape to live another day. And then, as I squatted on my hands and knees, my robin came so close that I could easily have caressed her feathers! (or was it a him? Do robins share parenting chores?) I didn't get much gardening done with my many, many pauses but it was such a delight to watch them, I didn't mind at all. Would it be anthropomorphizing too much to believe that they returned my kindness by letting me approach their nest and watch their babies avidly devour my garden's invertibrate bounty? I don't care. It's what I choose to believe.
Today, I headed outside as usual. It was only after I realized I was making great progress did I realize why. My baby robins have fledged. They are off finding their own food, releasing mom and dad robin from the constant chore of finding grub (never before did I realize how appropriate that slang for food is for birds). I've lost my constant gardening companions. But only until next year's brood requires that we resume our gardening collaboration. I know they will be back.
I'm not the only one happy with my excess of gardening time. My robins (yes, I claim them as mine) are delighted to see me every day. They follow me everywhere in the garden, impatiently waiting for me to turn up grubs and worms for an easy-picking meal to take back to their nest of hungry hatchlings. Almost as soon as I turned over the soil, they were at my feet, stuffing their beaks while keeping one eye on me. I told myself that they somehow knew I could be trusted. To encourage ever closer encounters, I'd become motionless when they drew near. I'd watch them watch me, marveling at their brazeness. In just a few days' time, they became so accustomed to me that they grew bolder and came closer, not wanting a single juicy, squirming worm to escape to live another day. And then, as I squatted on my hands and knees, my robin came so close that I could easily have caressed her feathers! (or was it a him? Do robins share parenting chores?) I didn't get much gardening done with my many, many pauses but it was such a delight to watch them, I didn't mind at all. Would it be anthropomorphizing too much to believe that they returned my kindness by letting me approach their nest and watch their babies avidly devour my garden's invertibrate bounty? I don't care. It's what I choose to believe.
Today, I headed outside as usual. It was only after I realized I was making great progress did I realize why. My baby robins have fledged. They are off finding their own food, releasing mom and dad robin from the constant chore of finding grub (never before did I realize how appropriate that slang for food is for birds). I've lost my constant gardening companions. But only until next year's brood requires that we resume our gardening collaboration. I know they will be back.
posted by bemused at 6:09 PM
1 Comments:
Bravo!
Beautiful post.
I found an eggshell at the base of a tree near our driveway, confirming what I thought was probably going on up above...bluejays going in and out frequently, and squawking up a storm. I've yet to see the babies, but alas, I haven't been in my garden even an hour these past weeks. Lucky you to be living in the wonderful spring and summer of your garden!
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