I have a Bewick’s wren again, and guessing by its long gangly look and its uncertainty as to where the best hiding places are as it scouts out the patio, a fledgling.
My mated pair, nesting at ground level, disappeared around March. I’m been afraid they most likely were taken out by the neighbor’s cat. The species’ survival is on very shaky grounds and I’ve always felt protective of mine; the one that flew around my head singing for joy as I put out food once, loud enough for me to hear even with the old hearing aids, claimed my heart forever.
I keenly missed my Bewick’s.
I put a lot of chili-oil suet out at ground level a few days ago and the new little one showed up. Encouraged, I’ve been putting out more than the usual to try to entice it to claim the place. Encouraged back, s/he’s been coming back several times a day the last few days. If I hear it singing, it will mean it’s a male.
Suet do you think of that? Me, I think we’ve got us a territory.
Went out this evening to check on the plum tree at the side yard and the mockingbird flew immediately over and landed right overhead, quite close. This is the first time it had been willing to be seen. I looked up, it looked down, not a challenge but a pleased-to-meet-you and curiosity satisfied, then with a flick of the tail it danced upwards through the apple tree.
Juicy, ripe peach-and-raspberry crisp warm out of the oven. A few more years’ growth and I’ll be picking the peaches myself. And sharing some, no doubt, with the birds.