Would you look at that? Do you see what's in the seed pod, beside seeds?
I usually cut down the daylilies' flower stalks before they develop seed pods, but the ones I miss have, by mid-October, been dessicated into lacy cups of glossy jet beads, like the ones here. I thought it made a nice image, with the shadow and the contrasting textures, and photographed them two weeks ago. Only now do I see.....the snail. (Make that snails. That's one in the left pod, too!) These guys get everywhere. It's not unusual to see the little critters poised at the end of an eight-foot-long willow branch that must have taken them hours to traverse the length of, from the ground to the very tip where now is being chewed up the tenderest, juiciest new growth. But really, you climbed all the way up the stalk, into the seed pod... Did it eat and fall asleep? Was it attacked by a predator and left there, an empty shell? Went looking for that same stalk and seedhead today, but it's gone; it's been two weeks of rain, wind, leaves falling, sun, rain, etc. So. Something impossible to look out for next year...
She'll eat breakfast alfresco, and wave to us with her tongue as we leave for work.
She'll spend time inside the screenhouse. No, outside. No, inside. No, outside. Wait! Both at once!
She'll have a nap. Maybe ten. 
When she hears the car return, she'll come to greet us/demand dinner. And we, being her humans, will comply.
...so named not for a dearth of the characteristics shared by shield ferns, but for the fact its sporia develop on the margins of its leaves. 
Aside from the birds, about whom I can't shut up, late spring is alive with lots of other little forms of life. Above, you see the cutest little pest ever. Look at that shell, it's transparent! And so exquisitely small, for a sense of scale, consider those huge grooves he's crawling over: those are my fingerprints. Go on, look at your own fingerprints; that's how tiny he is. Ah, but he wants to destroy my vegetation, and so he, along with his many older relatives, was handpicked off the creeping phlox and daylily leaves and sidearmed into the street, where the birds are waiting to make breakfast out of him.
As it turns out, that last post on May 30th wasn't the end of the story; the juvenile robins are being raised in the surrounding trees. Every day since the last one left, I've seen one and sometimes two together. Usually I'm tipped off to the location by now-familiar calls-and-responses. For the first couple of days, the young'uns were not very high up in the old bent pine tree, where I took the photo above. See the black-and-white speckling on the red breast? That, and the overall "fluffy" quality, let you know it's a juvenile. (Oh, also the insane cheeping when it's time to eat.) Most interesting is the way the mom encourages them to fly: I saw her tugging worms out of the tomato patch, loading up her beak, then she flew to a branch next to the kids, sat there a few seconds while they raised a racket about the lunch she was holding, then she flew away, higher up into the next tree, and they followed! I guess they'll be trained to find their own worms once they're stronger, swifter flyers, and it's safer for them to be on the ground. Songbirds are much different from baby goslings and ducks, who walk right out of the shell and commence swimming and feeding themselves more or less immediately.
What motivates the last one to leave the nest? After all, there's pl-en-ty of room in there now that the other two are gone. Mom's still feeding the others, as they venture into the surrounding trees. Won't she continue to bring your share to the old place? Hm. You can certainly hear both parents chirping up a storm of encouragement as the last little guy stands uncertainly on the branch above, looking around before taking his leap of faith.And that's it, I suppose. Probably won't see them again. Let's hope they beat the odds and all make it through the summer. Thanks for the experience, guys!
Okay, not an eagle. The last of the robins. Early in the morning, I saw there were still two in the nest, and then I wandered to the back of the yard to look at the clematis, which had just bloomed. I noticed a big *splat!* of white on a lower branch of the scrub pine, and another on the dark brown mulch below that. Well, I can put doo and doo together...and looking up I found the little one who'd jumped out yesterday! He's a good 12-14 feet up in that pine tree, where I hope he's safe for now. Just before we left for work, around noon, I checked the nest and there was only the one above, left all alone and looking so fierce, I didn't dare get closer, so I apologize for the poor focus. I have no idea where the second one went.
Things are getting a bit crowded in chez spruce tree. Let's see: I think they were born on the 14th, so it should be only a day or two before they start moving out; they should all leave within a day of one another, and then remain under cover on the ground, in separate locations, still being fed by their parents while they hop around, learn to hunt their own food, and in a week or two, develop the ability for sustained flight. That's the best-case scenario, and it may happen for one of them, or none; according to this University of Michigan site, only a quarter of young robins survive their first summer. The breeding pair that raised these three will probably produce another clutch of eggs this season, but the female will build a new nest in a different tree. Truly, these are some hard-working parents; all day every day has been devoted to brooding, feeding, hauling away waste, and feeding again, about every fifteen minutes during daylight hours. (Yes, I have spent quite a lot a time watching them. I figure I won't have another opportunity like this, and it's my vacation, okay?)
Above: Monday, the 18th.
Above and below: Tuesday, the 19th. (Eyes open! Then, zzzzzzz.)
Above and below: Today, Wednesday, the 20th.
I thought human kids grew quickly, but they don't beat these guys. Just yesterday they wore nothing but a few threads of white down over their wrinkly pink skin, and this morning - pin feathers have sprouted! They sleep a lot, they're pretty much asleep even when their mouths are open. Now, sad to say, it looks like there are only three chicks in the nest, not four. The last few nights felt awfully cold, and I'm afraid one was lost, possibly on Sunday night. Or perhaps, that fourth egg never did hatch and the 'rents did what they had to do. It's hard to tell from any of the photos exactly how many heads there are in that nest. (It's crowded.) The forecast for the next few days is warm and sunny, though, so that's one less thing to worry about. Now I can concentrate on the, um, flu-like symptoms I fell ill with yesterday. (uh-oh!)
Welcome to Jurassic Park! What with the birds and lizards, we're rockin' a prehistoric vibe here in the backyard habitat. The Italian wall lizards are more numerous and somewhat less skittish than last year. (By "less skittish" I mean it takes them two nanoseconds to disappear, instead of one. See how much closer I got to this one? Thank you, zoom lens.)
