A Tale of Two Birds

It has been a mild summer here in San Diego so far this year. While other parts of the country are reeling under heat waves, we have been enjoying mild days and cool nights. We still have time of course for a southern California spell of hot weather but for now one cannot complain. 

Back in early July, I noticed that a sparrow of some sort had built a nest behind the porch light in the space between the light box and the wall. Also around this time, there were mocking birds in the neighbourhood providing a steady mix of songs. One in particular seemed to be a late night partying kind and would  start singing around midnight. He (apparently the males are the ones singing to attract females) used to take up a commanding position on the top of the pomegranate tree in the backyard and belt out an amazing array of 'rocking' bird hits.

Don't get me wrong. I enjoy the songs of birds as much as the next person but listening to these songs in a repeat loop for two to three hours in the middle of the night takes a toll. This bird had the ability to project its voice to an entire block and the stamina to keep going for hours. But there was nothing to be done except close the windows and hope that the bird would snag a partner soon. Which he must have by late July because all of a sudden, the singing stopped. While I would not go so far as to say 'good riddance', I confess I do not miss the singing now. In passing, let me note that I was amazed to learn that the mocking bird can learn up to two hundred different songs and can mimic the sound of car alarms and the croaking of frogs.

The bird that had taken up residence at the front porch was a model tenant. She seemed noiseless mostly and I only noticed her flying away sometimes as I opened the front door to go out. There were a couple of occasions when I spotted two birds and I assumed it was the male half of the pair. I soon saw the mother sitting in the nest for long periods and I was sure there was a clutch of eggs there by now incubating. Then all of a sudden, one day, we heard high pitched squeals at the door and when we looked, we saw the mother (or the father) sitting on the light box feeding in turn three tiny but wide open mouths. Soon this became a familiar sight a few times a day. It was fascinating to watch them through the mesh door sitting on the staircase (opening the door would have scared the lot). 

Over the next couple of weeks, the little fledglings grew from strength to strength and their squeals noisier. Every time the parent arrived with food, they snapped into action, bobbing their heads up and down as if competing for the best morsel. More and more of their bodies became visible and in ten days or so they appeared fully grown and ready to fly fluttering their newly grown wings. And fly away they did in the next two days. The parent seemed to egg them on almost pulling them out by the beak. One by one, they took the first tentative steps around the nest, and a few quick trial jumps to the top of the lamp, eventually leaping off the nest. One interesting thing to note was the sibling that first took to flight seemed to return and help the others.

If you have not quit reading this post by this point (thank you), you are no doubt wondering why I am launching into the breeding and nesting habits of birds. But I have a good reason. I don't know about you but I have found this summer a bit exhausting and I am not referring to the heat which I already mentioned has not been a factor here. 

It has been a summer of discontent in many ways. The news from around the world has been sad and alarming - heat waves in many parts of the world, floods in others, and unprecedented wild fires in still other parts, war in Ukraine that seems to rage on with no end in sight, a COVID-weary world unprepared to tackle the outbreak of another virus (monkey pox), new lows reached by the political class, need I go on? In the midst of all this, to see the little sparrows set up their nest and raise their family, and to see the young ones take their first flights - all routine and normal activities, was calming and somehow reassuring. They seemed to offer the hope that all is still right with the world. Indeed, to quote Emily Dickinson, 'Hope is the thing with feathers' and who better than a little bird to reiterate that?

Time to take down the empty nest and clean the porch. I now miss the chirps of the sparrow family and even the mocking bird's songs.