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DaRk AnGel : Why Home : May 2006 : It was a weekend of the birds…

It was a weekend of the birds…

Saturday found a visiting family of Rose-breasted Grosbeaks. They included a male and female and a juvenile male who like most humans was spoiled and a lot bratty. These birds are just stopping by to refuel on their journey back home. Louisiana summers are not to their liking.

I was so glad that my friend was able to share this special moment. Then we dared Daring to open the titmouse box, to try and photograph the babies. One asleep in front, and an eye barely visible in the back right was about all we could see amongst the dark downy feathers. There was no way to tell how many were in the box.

As we enjoyed the visitors on Saturday the yard was full of cries of the babies around us. The cheeps and wing flapping translated to one thing!! FEED ME!! NOW!! The box with the titmouse babies to our left was a constant cacophony of noise. The parents were kept busy shuttling food in and feces out. It was a struggle to keep up with the demands of their young.

Sunday I could not expect it to get any better. But it did.

I looked out early in the day and saw a familiar flash of yellow. Hurriedly I ran for the oranges and grape jam. Once the goodies were out, the Oriole returned. Now I have only ever had one Oriole or one Rose-breasted Grosbeak at a time in the yard. Never have I had a family of either. Saturday was special with the Grosbeak's and Sunday would top that. There were not one or two or even three Orioles but four! A male and his mate and then a juvenile male and female as well. I was so in heaven.. They came and went, eating the oranges and jam. CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK.. Our cameras fired shot after shot, hoping for just one special one.

I could not have wanted to share this experience with anyone else than the friend that I did.

On a line by the Titmouse house I noticed a bird I had never seen before. I shot pictures as it looked into the box with the babies. It appeared to have nesting material in his mouth. I commented that it seemed to be looking for a place to nest. The bird seemed peaceful enough and spent the afternoon checking out the various foods to be had.

That night as I tried to process through all the pictures I had for the month, I looked up and found the bird seemingly looking to nest was a Black-Chinned Sparrow and very uncommon. I was excited as I shared the news with my company.

Later as I looked closer at the pictures I noticed what appeared to be a small feather on the mouth of the Sparrow. I thought little about it. Since the bird was uncommon I sent copies of the pictures to a friend at Cornell to verify my identification. Then as an after thought I mentioned the interest in the Titmouse box, and continued on wondering in the email if the sparrow could mean any harm to the Titmouse's.

The weekend ended with confusion when a poem I found seemed to lump me in with everyone and anyone else that had ever hurt my friend. I was hurt because all I have ever been with her or anyone is me. Honest and just who I am. The conversation we had this weekend did hurt her, and it hurt me as well. How I wish things were different. The poem seemed like a unneeded jab.

Today I was in the yard planting honeysuckle. The parent birds were all around waiting for the worms to be place out. For some reason I realized that I had not seen or heard the Titmouse's. As I walked to the box, I saw a small gray shape on the ground by the box. I knew the babies were too young to reach the hole and try to get out. Something threw the dead bird out. I hoped that it was the parents dealing with a death.

I opened the box and havoc had ensued within those walls. Five more bodies were found. Each with some trauma around their neck. Some with blood coming out of their mouths. The sparrow had indeed slaughtered all of the babies. But to what end? It did not take over the box. In fact I did not see it at all today. For some reason there was a need to kill the young. I wish I knew why..

I wish I knew why about the poem as well. What was the need to hurt me? Why?

I laid the babies on a rail and took a couple of pictures. Then I put them all together under a pile of leaves to go to the ground and nourish the growth of other living things. I was saddened by the brutality of it all. Had the sparrow needed food and killed to survive I could have understood. But like so many human killers, it seemed to kill - just to kill.
It dawned on me that the picture of the sparrow with the feather on his bill is a feather from the baby Titmouse's he killed. He had done the act while we were mere feet away. Not a sound was heard - no panic, no screams, no struggle..

As I sat with camera in hand today, it was the usual cast of characters. No Orioles. No new visitors. No Rose-breasted Grosbeaks. And just about as I was ready to come in the two parent titmice appeared. The female grabbed a worm and flew to the nest box, looked in, and called out for several minutes. I guess it is not only man that has trouble coping with loss of family. Several times she visited the box with food. Each time looking sad and confused and searching for the young on the ground near by. Of course they were not to be found..

I wonder if my friendship is gone. Slaughtered by my honesty.

If so, then I did the best I could.

Hopefully the Titmouse's will try again. It is not too late in the summer.