06.11.17

Even though the Strawberry Moon is the smallest full moon of the year, it has been daylight these last few nights.  And, much to our chagrin, birds are waking us at 1:00 a.m., singing away out there like it’s morning light.  Perhaps there is a new species that has taken up residence here at the lake, after fifteen years.   I did some research to see who the hell is singing at 1:00 a.m., and if a full moon might contribute, and I think it’s possible that the Mountain Mockingbird has moved into our woods.

And, the robin family on the porch!  We had such tender feelings for them, earlier in the spring, but that’s before I learned about “nest fidelity”!  Not to be confused with an investment fund, it is their hard-wired trait to return to the site of a successful nesting area, to hatch THREE broods each season.  Every day, there is a new nest under construction, and every day, Don sweeps it off the rafter, often to the sinister beak snapping protest by the male.   The nest looks sloppy with tendrils of moss and sticks hanging down low, as if he/she is in a great hurry, which of course she is, seeing that man with the broom below.  I’m beginning to feel sorry for them.  After the morning sweep, when I’m walking up to the garage, I hear them ranting to one another about the violence taking place on the porch.  We’re off for a little three-day trip next week, and I suspect we’ll return to a newly completed nest.   It wasn’t THAT bad.

I love my ritual cocktail hour, out on the terrace or down by the water, after the day’s chores are completed.   I’m usually by myself, except for the kitties who stretch out across my lap or in the sunshine at my feet.  I like to just sit there and listen to the birds.  The cats glance at them on a nearby branch or on a rock, but they don’t assume that crouched position for attack.  There were plenty of feather “gifts” left for us on the porch early in the season, but I think they have given up, perhaps overwhelmed by how many birds there are, and seem content to just let them be.  Summer is, after all, short for us all.