You know I do love my South Carolina birds, the bluebirds in particular. They are elegant, tasteful, devoted.
But let me tell you, up here in these North Carolina mountains the world is quite different. We’re learning a great deal about a lot of new things, a new collection of feathered friends among them.
Take this guy, for instance.
He’s a house wren, of course, but since we’re more familiar with the gentler Carolina version, I didn’t know much about his…ummm…habits. Then a friend (who happens to be an ornithologist) stopped by. I excitedly pointed to the nest and he was quick to explain these are not great neighbors. They make a mess, are not considerate, and they make a practice of visiting other’s nests and poking holes in their eggs (oh my). As if that were not enough, there are lots of shenanigans that go on between the Papa and the Mama which are generally unbecoming.
It all just broke my heart.
We didn’t disturb the birds, of course, and we’ve returned to the mountains to find they’re still right there. But these days the Papa is spending his time hopping hopping hopping all along the top of the nest box, here, then there, belting out a beautiful (albeit insistent) tune.
He’s fiercely defending his territory, is the truth.
But I’ve decided I will look at it differently.
I’m going to let the sweet song bring me joy.
It’s his heart that’s overflowing, that’s what I think,
and in this happy state he can’t help but share
his own joyful news
the babies have been born!
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