Category: The Wild Birds

Every spring the hummingbirds start flying around Aunt Mel’s front porch. They make it known that they’ve returned for the season and expect their feeder to be ready and full at all times.
Aunt Mel always obliges. Its fun to watch the tiny birds feed throughout the day. Their wings flap so quickly you can’t clearly see them. And if you sit quietly on the porch, they’ll zoom overhead and you can hear them peep at one another.
But this past summer, things got out of hand. By summer’s end there were at least 20 hummingbirds trying to use the feeder. As time neared for them to migrate hundreds of miles south, they became very aggressive trying to fuel up foe the long trip.
Some of the hummingbirds would simply loiter around the feeder and when another approached, they were chased off. Others stood on the rim and drank and drank until Aunt Mel was certain they’d pop.
Many times Aunt Mel covered her head and ducked past the feeder so she wasn’t hit in the head by the bossy hummingbirds. How could something so tiny and cute get so darn bossy?
By October, it was time for the last of the lingering hummingbirds to fly south. Aunt Mel brought the feeder inside, cleaned it well and stored it for the winter. Finally the fighting hummingbirds left for their winter home.
Hopefully next summer the trouble makers will find another feeder to patrol!

For the past four or five years a brown wren has nested in Aunt Mel’s garage. Her nest is located inside a silver metal bucket hanging on a hook near the garage door. The wren flies in and out of the garage with twigs and hay building the perfect nest for her babies.
Once the chicks hatch, mother wren stays busy delivering bugs to the hungry bunch. She chirps once as she enters the garage to announcing her return. The babies get so excited the bucket sways from side to side.
This goes on until the babies are able to survive on their own. One morning, Aunt Mel raised the garage door and the babies were gone. She seldom sees them but often hears them singing in the trees.
But this year was a little different. Aunt Mel watched one intrepid baby as it left the bucket-nest for the first time. The baby wren flew from the nest, brushed past Aunt Mel and landed on the hammock stand. He didn’t fly well and he probably didn’t mean to land on the hammock. But he was chirping and looking around and obviously pleased with his flight to freedom. Mother wren, however, was a nervous wreck.
As he flitted across the yard on brief spurts of flight, she frantically followed behind, a big bug in her beak like a bribe for him to come back. But he didn’t give her a second look and continued exploring his new world. Mom was right behind him. Aunt Mel wondered how long mother wren followed her independent minded baby. It must be hard when the last one leaves the nest. But next spring, she’ll be back to raise a new flock of little brown wrens.