A Bunting Named Piper

The thing I like most about being able to work from home (besides being able to open the fridge or flop down for a nap or be there for my kids when they're sick) is being there to know the birds in my yard, to be in on their lives.  Piper is our indigo bunting, and he arrived in April and fooled around for a couple of months doing who knows what. Then he got serious in late June and proclaimed his territory from the top of Dump Hill to the farm bell in back to the willow and sycamore on the side, to the ash in the driveway. Our yard was his and he wasn't going to let anyone forget it.

I had watched him all summer in the Bird Spa. Piper was nothing if not a clean little bird.

On hot days it seemed that every time I looked out, Piper was doin' his thing. I stopped everything each time I saw him there. He is so beautiful.

As the summer wore on and the juvenile birds began to disperse from their natal homes, Piper had to share his bath with American redstarts (like this one) and common yellowthroats

and once in awhile even a scarlet tanager!

who of course was in his drab winter plumage. More's the pity.

If it offended Piper to share his bath, he never showed it. Even with four American goldfinches!

It was late summer before Piper and his mate really got going. Other birds, like our yard bluebird, were on their third brood before the indigo buntings began to think about breeding. 

This male bluebird is thinking about taking a bath. See how worn and shabby his feathers look, with gray-brown showing through? 

He'll start his molt soon, as soon as the kids are out of the house and finding their own jobs. 

Not a minute too soon, huh, Raggedy Dad?

Next: Piper and Mrs. Piper get serious.

Scarlet Tanager--He's Baaack!

This is a post about a scarlet tanager settin' on a post.


The post stands outside my studio window, and I can't remember why we put it up. Maybe to hang things off'n. I recollect a hanging basket on that nail there.

On this fine day there is something sitting on the post that's hard to miss. He seems to be comparing his reds to those of the geraniums.



In truth, he's considering a bath.

I have just cleaned the Spa and since he keeps an eye on it and on me, I know he'll be around soon after I put away the Comet and the scrub brush.

If I had silken plumage the color of a ripe jalapeno, I'd be fussy about where I bathed, too.



Inside, I am hyperventilating, hoping to catch a few more exposures of him with the red gerania.



I am not disappointed. He shuttles between the post and the Spa, perching, preening, ruffling, then diving back in.

He is a rocket, a smooth scarlet packet of beauty. And this bubbly Bird Spa has lured him out of his forest fastnesses.


Well, that, and a scrub brush and some Comet. Never think that the birds don't appreciate the many things, big and small, we do to make them happy.