Nests, surprises, and mysteries

I feel like I’m writing a lot about birds lately, which is ironic. Among the pantheon of living things to know about, birds have always been a peculiar gap in my knowledge. But, nests were the stars today, so it’s a day to write about them. When teaching kids about nature, nature often dictates the terms and timing.

This morning, I was doing my weekly rounds of filling up the seed feeder and inspecting the nesting box at church. Following an unbroken span of weeks in which the only visitor was a wasp, last week I’d found a tidy little nest made entirely of pine straw. This week, I found in the nest three perfect blue eggs.

I hollered over the fence to let the kids know. Both of mine were thrilled to see the eggs, and there were a few others on the playground who stopped by for a boost to look at them. They’re perhaps about the size of a penny, if not a bit smaller. My son declared, “They’re blue! These are robin eggs!”

I explained that robins aren’t cavity nesters, and that the gauge of the nesting box is simply too small for a robin to squeeze through. I said that I don’t know, but I’ll do some reading to find out. My hunch is that they may be eastern blue birds, but alas, I’m even less clever about eggs than I am about birds.

My daughter wanted to know if we were going to watch them hatch, but I told her that it would be days. This was enough to send her running back to play on the playground.

In the afternoon, I discovered that a waif of a bird has taken up residence in a nesting box I’ve had for a couple of years. Übernanny Emma had helped the kids make the box for Father's Day a couple of years ago. I promptly weather sealed it and hung it in an inconspicuous part of a conifer right next to a living room window. After a couple of years with no evidence of use either for roosting or nesting I moved it to hang from a flowering dogwood in the backyard.
While moving some bags of topsoil, I noticed the box moving. As I approached, out flew a slight, tawny bird, somewhat smaller than a goldfinch. Looking inside the box, I saw a complete but ragged nest, made as much from bits of string, paper, and plastic, as stray grass and weeds I'd pulled earlier. I don't recognize the bird at all.

I told the kids about the little bird, and it sparked some discussion. Both of them are hoping to spot it, and both have suggested every species they know as a possible identity. I’m still stumped, but am reading up on the little guys. In any event, it’s become a mystery for us to solve together.

Just Do It

I had the idea a long time ago: I’d organize a camping trip through the church. I’d lead hikes. We would rent canoes and spot meteors, depending on when we went. I told myself over and over that I’d get something on the calendar. Four years went by before our first outing.
Staffing the Environment Commission’s booth at Hometown Holidays was a conflict one year, a watershed event another year. There was a proposal to write for work, and something to do for a professional organization. Then, there’s ballet, taekwondo, tee ball, swimming, and music class. Every time I thought we had found a date, someone who wanted to join in had a conflict. Waiting for the opportunity when there’s ample lead time to plan and no conflicts all the way around meant that years went by without organizing even one trip.
So, we wing it. The trips are loosely planned. We meet someplace where there’s some variety in things to do- swimming, hiking, poking around exhibits in the ranger station. We eat some meals all together, and some as individual families. Maybe we’ll hike together, maybe we won’t. Maybe we’ll see the falls, maybe we won’t. And since we actually do it (with a plan that we’ll do it again), there’s always next time for anyone who missed this outing.

Waiting for the perfect time, and operating under the expectation that everything would be planned out like a cruise, meant that it just wasn’t happening. Making it happen is far more important getting every detail right. Kids need unstructured time outside. There’s ample research that this is good for their bodies and good for their minds. When they meet friends and explore together, it’s also good for their social development.
So, go spend a night or two outside with your kids in the next couple of weeks. It’s a great time of year to do it, and you can even be part of the National Wildlife Federation’s Great American Backyard Campout (even if you’re camping somewhere other than a backyard). Don’t overcomplicate, don’t overspend, but have a good time outside.

Little Blue Flowers

A few weeks ago, we took a day-trip into the city to see the cherry blossoms. I’ve lived here all my life, but cannot recall ever making the pilgrimage to see the monuments framed by pink blooms. I packed lunch and the little stroller and we made our way in. I had planned to arrive early, start the morning with a walk beneath the blossoms, and have lunch in a museum before heading home.

I had a plan.

Instead we arrived late and managed only to make it into The Castle, which houses just a small sampling of what can be found in the other museums. We ate lunch at the wrong time. We were running behind schedule. Right around the when I had intended to head home, we were just barely beginning the trek toward the blossoms.

She wanted to walk and I didn’t want to discourage it, but it’s hard to get anywhere quickly with two little feet trudging behind you. She went along at her own pace, skipping then slowing, strolling then stopping. It’s a long walk down the mall for a just-three-year-old, especially for one who is absolutely fascinated by the blue flowers speckling the grass.

A man with a bike cart noticed us. He approached slowly and asked if we wanted a ride. “No, thank you,” I replied.

He raised his eyebrows. “It’s going to take a long time. You’re sure?”

In my eagerness to get to the main event, I wanted so much to hop into that little cart. However, between the expense and the blue flowers, I knew we had to walk. “I’m sure. Thank you.”

He must have thought I was crazy. There I was, a grown-up, with the opportunity to take charge of the situation. I had the chance to speed things along, but I opted to indulge in the enchantment of a three-year-old.

We did eventually make it to the cherry blossoms. We moved slowly. All because she had seen something I hadn’t. Those blue flowers. In my rushing and my planning, I had missed them. The cherry blossoms, though gorgeous, paled in comparison to the pure joy of a little girl lying nose to the ground, seeking those little bits of blue. Those sweet little pops of color sprinkled in the grass; each created; each perfectly designed. Tiny, yet captivating. Something I would usually traipse over, now a hint of Him in the middle of the city.