Small Body, Big Mouth

Such a racket this little guy can make. The melodious chirping and long, pretty warblings of courting season have given way to loud, repetitious squawking intended to assert authority and drive away competitors. A handful of these house sparrows, three or four starlings, and my robin couple all have been flying-and-crying, swooping-and-whooping all over the place today, letting everybody know whose territory is whose. This loud posturing is necessary, I guess, because they've all got to live within sight of each others' nests, inner suburbia being as crowded as it is, and trees being as scarce as they are around here.

And Away We Go!

Something catches her attention here, and once she decides to go, it's up to the kids to keep up...

Mother Goose

We met this big momma at Mill Pond early yesterday morning. She's got a brood of seven to keep track of. Click the link to watch the littlies scurry under her wing. So cute. Happy Mother's Day, and remember to check your shoes after leaving the park...

Other Nests in the Neighborhood

Kenny spotted this nest in Hendrickson Park. Not difficult to do, as it's out in plain sight, and marked with a red flag, so someone's watching it. It's a duck nest, according to our friend who saw a white duck sitting on it one day. In trying to find out what the red flag means, I came across this interesting article. That gives me an idea...

This Year's Clutch

Here they are, looking exactly like last year's photo.
I want to leave them in peace this year, so that's the only close-up I'm going to take. Otherwise, I'll just be observing them with binoculars from behind a lilac bush about 23 feet away. And unfortunately, that's just too far away for my zoom to pick out the nest, which is quite thoroughly hidden from almost every other vantage point.

New Construction

So that census report I just sent back is already outdated; I think last year's robin couple has come back to stay with us again this year. It might be a different pair, but the new nest has been constructed in the exact same location on the same branch of the spruce. (I removed the old nest last year after it was abandoned.) It's currently empty, and not quite as impossibly-neat-looking as a robin nest usually is, though it's a tightly-woven little thing. No sign of the contractor.

On Pushing Through, and Coming Back

I didn't clear away the oak leaves last fall, but that didn't stop the tulips. All over the bed, they just keep unfurling, ever so slowly, and go not around the obstacle but straight through. The force is with them, the one that through the green fuse drives the flower.
(Oh look it up; you're in front of the internet anyway...)
The lizards have woken up and started to scamper, everything's coming up green, and crowds of robins are urging me to "cheer up! cheer up!" as they search for real estate to settle down on. I tell ya, it's like a Hallmark card at times.
Things have been quiet here since the end of the summer, when a spanner was thrown in the works, and I've spent the last six months being inspected, resected and injected. It's not quite over, but it will be soon, and trust me, when it is, we'll be getting back up to speed here. For what that's worth.
In the meantime, here's a snowdrop in the Clark Botanic Garden, on the first full day of spring.