For years we've had a small bird house hanging from the front porch eave. It was made from a kit by one of the boys when they were in Scouts. The last time we had the house painted I slapped a coat of the same colors on the bird house-a light tan on the sides and the blue-grey we used for the front door and shutters for the roof.
Most years the birdhouse is nothing more than a decoration, but every few years we'll be blessed with a pair of birds. This year was one of them. One day a couple of weeks ago I heard chirping from that general area. With a little observation I soon learned that a pair of chickadees had claimed the bird house for their home. Eventually the chirping calmed down as the babies grew and got ready to fly out.
Saturday night I was doing yard work in the front and saw fluttering in the hole. I figured it was a baby fledgling and didn't think any more about it. However, yesterday morning when Hubby Tony and I went out the front door on our way to church I saw a bird hanging from the hole. It wasn't moving at all and I feared the worst. When we got back it was still there.
After lunch I put on a set of gloves, grabbed a plastic newspaper sleeve and rag, and went outside to investigate. Hubby Tony came with me to provide moral support. The bird was indeed dead. It was harder than I would have thought to remove the tiny limp body, because its foot was tangled in some of the nesting material. What a horrible death it must have had!
I dug a hole next to the maple tree in the back yard and buried the bird. I felt awful about the whole thing, but I hope the tiny bird body will enrich the soil in that area. While I was doing that Tony took down the house for cleaning. I removed the screws holding on the bottom, shook out the nest that was inside, and brought the house inside for a thorough washing. I think that when it dries I'll give it another coat of paint before I rehang it.
Five years ago today: New York, New York (Big Apple Chronicles--Introduction)