Last spring I noticed some unusual activity on the porch at the ranch. I had mounted an old rusty iron hook to hold a round or two of roping rope next to the door. Then I decorated it by attaching an old stirrup to the bottom. The whole thing, rope and all, was more decorative than functional.
In April I think it was, every time I would step out the door, I would catch the blur of movement and sound of wings flapping to my left. On closer examination I saw that a bird had been busy setting up residence in the old stirrup. It obviously was not a finished product at that point. There were the usual strings and threads and collected weeds all wound together to form a nest, and there was also the beginnings of a roof being carefully shaped by using the inside of the foot hole in the wooden form on the old saddle stirrup. After that, I tried to give a warning noise of some kind to announce my impending departure from the ranch house door. I wanted to keep from startling the poor young mother and give her time to escape before I opened the door. I wasn’t able to see what kind of bird it was because it always made a hasty retreat before I stepped out. Once I saw that the nest was completed with roof and all, I began to use the other ranch house door out of respect for a mother in waiting.
Delinquent feline is probably too harsh a term to use describing Mr. Black, but at the time it seemed appropriate. Yes, you guessed it, I wasn’t the only one who took note of the unusual movement next to the ranch house door. I won’t dwell on the details of the encounter, and neither should you, it wasn’t pretty. It should suffice to say that that mother bird was swiftly dispatched to the great atrium in the sky, you know, that’s near the rainbow bridge where your departed pets wait for you. Although I do understand it was only instinctive behavior on Mr. Black’s part, I just didn’t feel right giving those coveted scratches and head bumps he loves for several weeks afterwards.
When I looked into the nest a day or two later there were three small speckled eggs. It took another day and some consultation with a friend before I decided what to do about it. I think I’ve mentioned before that I’ve installed Bluebird houses all around the ranch and I had one out back of the ranch house. The houses have a latch and a door so they can be cleaned out on occasion. I had checked and found a nest in the bottom of that one, but no eggs yet. I put on rubber gloves (to avoid getting my scent on the eggs) and moved them to the Bluebird nest. I hoped the bird that had nested there would adopt the eggs as her own and hatch them. To make a long story short, it did, and they hatched. They turned out to be beautiful Black Capped Chickadees. To borrow the phrase from a loved but departed radio friend, and now, the rest of the story
There was one life lost that summer, but three saved, and now when I see a little Black Capped Chickadee on the bird feeder just off the porch, I wonder if it is one of those three baby birds that were spared and lovingly hatched by another mother that year. It’s a wonderful world we live in, full of surprises, isn’t it?
