I've been busy with bird doings, keeping up with what's going on in my nest boxes. The garden box was hoppin' with frequent feedings and lots of shrilling from the four girls inside.
I empathize heavily with parent birds this time of year, always running, never caught up, the orange diamonds always open for business.
I keep the Spa clean, scrubbing it with Comet every three days, and refilling it with fresh clean water. It's always got a bird or five on it. When that thing finally crumbles you will hear my howl all the way to the poles. The Magnificent Bird Spa hasn't been in production for at least a decade, and I haven't seen anything to equal it. Mrs. Troyer (mom of the garden box girls) found a moment to bathe, and she looked like she needed it.
One of the juvenile phoebes who were raised on our little phoebe shelf hidden under the garage eave gave me a very nice shot for the Fourth of July!
I've just loved having phoebes around the yard this year. I think of Avis and Luther every time I see them. When you raise a species, you keep a special affinity for it for the rest of your days.
I enjoyed watching the garden babes grow up. I tried to get a photo of them without opening the box. The little heads would pop up, then down when they saw me.
The same bird, having realized her mistake, hunkered down and hiding. You're in no danger, my love.
And what of the 17-day old "runt" that I transplanted into a brood three days younger?