....crow

Yogis,
When a crow flies over a large shadow is cast. That’s how I noticed them. It seemed that each time I looked out the window, a shadow was sweeping across my garden.

Now I have always had crows around. Typically they come in groups for any leftovers under the birdfeeder. They stay a bit and head out. But this was different, so I began to pay attention.

I noticed one would fly from my woods and over the house. A short time later it would return, disappearing into the treetops. The kind of rhythmic back and forth that indicates an impending addition to the family unit. I had never given much thought to nesting habits of crows.

Soon it began landing on my birdbath on its trips. Looking a bit silly perched with big talons on such a small bath, it would drink, dunk its head and even thrust its neck to send water down its back. That old birdbath has been a haven to many.

One morning I watch it bring a large hunk of bread and begin dunking it in and out. Soon the bread broke into smaller pieces. It ate a few and took the remaining chunk back to the woods. Ah, babies must have arrived. This became the new ritual. Arrive with food, wash and soften it and then head home.

This makes for a very dirty bird bath.

The other day I went out to clean it and saw an unusual gray pile in the center. Grabbing a stick I poke it. Yikes! It was the remains of a frog. I had no idea they ate frogs. Indeed they do, along with mice, bird eggs and of course, trash. Since that day I have found various, what I can only refer to as guts, of different creatures. Sometimes the crow returns to retrieve them. Other times it is me scooping them out.

Did you know crows are one of the few birds that understand and reciprocate with gift giving?  I have set up a stone with different trinkets on offer. While they keep getting knocked off, none have been taken. Perhaps once the babies fledge they will have more time on their hands.

Getting to know crows,
SARAH

.....a box

Yogis,

It’s about 6 inches by 6 inches with no top. Gray. A wood box I believe was the base for a gift I received. Once empty I decided it was one of those ‘boxes I have no idea what I will use it for, but too good to throw away’ kind. On to the metal gardening shelf in the garage it went.

That was two years ago.

Last year I walked in to discover an adorable nest built inside the box. Twigs, leaves, moss…..and one of my gardening gloves……all woven together in a perfect round. I kept my eye on it but nothing more happened. No eggs. No bird.

Two weeks ago, it caught my eye again for some reason and I took a couple pictures. It appeared to be at a slightly different angle. Didn’t give it much thought as I pulled down the garage door to head for the beach.

On Monday’s return the door is rolled up. Tuesday morning, I walk in to get my new gloves. Looking down I find two eyes peering out at me. Oh my! Hello! A Carolina wren is nestled deep in the hole, clearly sitting on eggs.  I guess the door will not be going down any longer.

This time of year I am knee deep in gardening chores. Cleaning beds, spreading compost, adding trellises, all which require numerous loud trips in and out of the garage and right past miss wren.

I let her know I am coming in a calm voice, often with the whistle I have used in the yard for years, hopeful she knows there is no danger. I check on her often with my binoculars through the back windows.

I look it up and their tendency is to nest in manmade objects like boots, jacket pockets, or wreathes on the front door. Perhaps they consider human movement another layer of protection in the precarious role of mothering baby birds. I will do my best.

There are an infinite number of things I love about spring. One is that a nondescript box can become a source of wonder and hope overnight.

My own mothering instincts on high alert,
SARAH