I am writing this from a corner of my world, in my living room near the four windows that face the porch and the street. From here I can see the neighborhood children ride their bikes and scooters, watch the couples saunter around the circle, the joggers and dog walkers...and those who are just GETTING OUT OF THE HOUSE. It is also the best vantage spot for new life that is emerging inside the hanging fuchsia basket on my porch. She caught my attention about two weeks ago when I saw her flying in and out with little bits of fluff and twigs. A brown-capped chickadee, so Karen tells me. I dared to bring the basket down and yes, indeed, there was a nest forming. A couple of days later, these 3 eggs. I learned from a bit of research that these birds’ eggs generally hatch in 12 days. The countdown had begun. “Mama” chickadee doesn’t like one bit that I insist on watering the plant. I stand on a stool to make sure I’m not drowning the nest, and she takes off to land in a nearby shrub, talking to me quite unkindly, I’m sorry Mama, but I just have to see this! Not a lot else going on in my life right now. Twelve days after I spied the nest, I noticed a lot of in-and-out-of-the-nest activity on Mama’s part. Could the eggs have hatched? I quietly eased my stool under the basket when Mama was away and spied the nest. Quickly, Mama returned, but not before I glimpsed a tiny claw! I beat a hasty retreat as Mama circled me squawking and carrying on, landing on the rail, then the nearby shrub, but thankfully not on me! Today I was determined to get a photo of what’s in that nest but now there are two birds (Papa?) standing guard who imitate the Blue Angels’ diving maneuvers the moment I open the door. This is scary. And sacred. 10 more days until fledging…
Selene Patterson
*Pandemic Isolation Day #....for me it is the number of days since March 16, when I started staying home...mostly.