There hasn’t been a successful bird’s nest in this yard in years. In fact, we haven’t really seen many mating pairs of birds for quite some time. In years past, if we weren’t wrangling hungry rat snakes out of the hanging planters, then we were hosting a colony of stray but lovable cats on our back porch, all of whom were intent on killing all kinds of things. If a pair of birds was even willing to take a chance on our yard and consider it a decent place to have some babies, bad things happened. It was pretty awful dealing with the consequences.
Last week, a pair of bluebirds showed up (a male and a female) seemingly looking for a place to nest. They were hovering around the same area that once was occupied by birdhouses and had housed a few pairs before them, before the stray but lovable cats began bringing us gifts in the form of dead baby birds. Were these the same parents? Where had they been nesting all these years? And am I giving songbirds too much credit in thinking they might mate for life?
Regardless, a birdhouse has been erected, especially for them. And, obviously, because of all the hard work (three freakin’ hours, folks) we put into getting this thing in just the right spot, nobody has seen this pair of bluebirds since.
It is staked high enough off the ground so that any snakes would really have to work hard to get to it. It is also strategically placed far enough away from any tree branches and fence posts to dissuade the squirrels from jumping onto it and into it, eventually. And when the time comes for mama bird to toss the babies out on their keesters, they will land in my garden, which is fenced off and has been a fairly safe, pest-free place, so far. The birdhouse is clean, cozy, and located in a pretty quiet spot in the yard. Yet it’s still empty.
Did that just read like a MLS listing in a real estate guide?