I looked out the window this afternoon to discover why the wrens keep choosing my hanging basket as their prime real estate choice to raise a family - the fenced-in yard. Just look at the little guy waiting so patiently, so contained.
But wait! Where is your mommy?! You can't stand on the fence! Surely you are not ready to fly! You still look like a little old man with your last bits of downy fluff on your head. You're too young!
Whew. He got down.
But wait, I think I hear mommy!
Sure enough, mommy really is trying to get this little guy to fly. Great. I am really going to get nothing done this afternoon. I can't miss this!
OK, she has coaxed him to the edge again. . .
. . .but he is a bit perplexed.
And oh-so-cute.
Nope, not yet.
Yelling at mom. Familiar? Um, yeah.
Mom ignoring his yells. Even more familiar? No comment.
And then, he was on the trellis 2 feet away.
And then in the garden, about 6 feet away, with mommy rewarding him with bugs.
Good job, little guy!
And this is how Gavin and I left him. Again looking perplexed, gazing back at the planter with his safe nest in it, with his mom trying to lure him back to safety. And I retreat with my camera, giddy about the pictures and a little embarassed that I just spent 1 1/2 hours watching a baby bird. But only a little.
No comments:
Post a Comment