House hunting always starts with a drive by, or fly by if you have wings.
My mother discovered (or admitted) she was an artist
rather late in her life—sometime in her mid 90s. Her mediums were watercolor
painting and ceramics. In spite of, maybe because of, her Parkinson’s disease,
her work has a unique quality about it—whimsical; perky without being
pretentious. Because she knew of the appreciation Susan and I have for birds,
she created a strange acorn-like birdhouse that certainly appealed to her and
us, but not to the birds. Ever since she made the birdhouse we’ve diligently
hung it in a tree where we could appreciate its uniqueness. The most we’ve ever
seen inside of the house when we took it down were a few bugs and some sticks,
probably installed by a wren.
Until this year.
About a week ago we noticed some Black-capped Chickadees
paying particular attention to mom’s ceramic creation. As I watched I tried not
to get too anthropomorphic about what the pair was doing, however, the birds
acted more like humans than humans.
Does this color make my butt look fat?
Here’s what I mean. It starts with a drive by, or
fly by in this case, based on information they probably received from a friend.
Then they have to take a number of looks, even though nothing changes inside. I
suspect they’re sizing the place for furniture or workbenches or whatever
chickadees do in their spare time. A lot of time and effort goes into selecting
the right neighborhood since this is a serious departure from a hole in a tree.
This is moving into an up-scale, condo neighborhood.
Okay. Food and water nearby. No ferrell cats around. Let's do it.
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