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
