Just one week ago we had five gaping little mouths, peeping wildly each time Mama Bird perched at the opening of the bottle with some nugget of food in her beak. Five scrawny necks, five bodies jam-packed in the nest, five yellow beaks hungry for food, a cheeping quintet that brought us considerable joy each day.
A few days ago my kids found two of the babies lying on the concrete, the "course of nature" in full swing. That left three little babies, now with more wiggle room and space to grow. That was just a few days ago.
Since that day, I had been noticing that Mama Bird didn't come around as much. Daddy Bird would fly by, peek in the bottle's opening, and fly off again. But what was more conspicuous than their increasing absence was the silence. I didn't hear any more chirping.
Each night, as we played in the yard, I found myself glancing up at the bottle. It's a little hard to see, but I couldn't detect any movement. Thinking they were perhaps sleeping, I waited until Mama Bird came by. She did -- finally -- and perched for a moment on the stick protruding from the bottle. No noise. No wild, excited cheeping that Mama's here. She flew off. Still no noise.
Finally, last night, I had to find out what was going on. I climbed up on the roof of the playhouse (no easy feat for me, with my intense fear of heights, but that just illustrates my level of concern for my little feathered friends), and my heart dropped as I got a closer look.
There, at the mouth of the bottle, was a dead baby bird.
So that's what Mama Bird would look at when she flew by.
I did some quick math -- three down, which must mean there are two still inside. But there was no noise, no movement whatsoever. My heart sank even lower as I wondered if there were two more dead babies hidden in the nest. I don't know much about birds, although I do think they recycle nests (don't they?). Do I take this nest out, to rid it of two potentially dead birds, so the next family can move in? Do I leave it ... but then what? Yuck.
Don got two long sticks and I proceeded to do some sad housecleaning. It took a while to get the nest out, for it was an incredible feat -- completely jam-packed in that bottle. It smelled horribly, like our hamster's cage (years ago) that needed a good cleaning. As twigs and feathers and strips of plastic and who-knows-what-else came fluttering down into the waiting garbage can, only then did I think of bugs and fleas and whatever else might be dislodged. I was completely overcome by a major case of heebie-jeebies, and when the deed was done I threw everyone's clothes into a hot wash, and I myself took the hottest shower I could possibly withstand. I itched all night, just thinking about it.
But the bottle is cleaned out, ready for the next family to arrive. I have such a soft spot for animals, and this incident of the ways of nature really saddened me. It doesn't help at all, either, knowing that yesterday I drove over a robin (since when do robins just hang out in the middle of the road and not fly off when a car comes? Not a good bird day for me). Since the cleaning I've seen Mama Bird still perch by the opening; Daddy Bird comes by and sits for a moment on top of the bottle. I wonder what's going through their little heads? Does anything go through bird heads? Who knows. Like I said, I don't know much at all about birds. Heck, they might not even be the same ones.
I'm not sure where the final two birds went. The hopeful side of me wants to think that they are OK, having literally flown the coop while the runts were left to their natural course. It's still sad, though.
I'll let you know when the real estate sign is taken down and the new residents move in.
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