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Baby Bird happiness explosion
After a long weekend spent with my nephews back home in upstate NY, I came home to a garden that was gasping for water and which seemed to have doubled in size. The bleeding heart bush is massive and dripping with heart shaped blossoms, the irises are coming up, lilies are springing, the alpine strawberries are knee-deep, and (WTF?) my daffodils are still in bloom. Yes, photos are coming.
As I was watering the garden though, I began to hear an exuberant birdsong coming from the shaded area where I planted all of the lily of the valley, wake robins, and wood anemone.
Low and behold, a baby cardinal was hanging out among the flowers learning how to fly. He must have been too young to understand that Big People are very scary and to be avoided, because he was perfectly cheerful and continued singing, hopping around, and fluttering his wings even when I sat down less than two feet away from him. I held very still and watched him for about ten minutes. I finally put away the garden hose, fetched a glass of wine from the house, and then settled down nearby as he hopped around and fluttered his wings, then succeeded in flying up to a low branch, then down again, then back up, then down again for some extended cheeping and fluttering, and then finally the grand finale flew ZZZZIIIIIIPPPPP up and away into the taller trees.
I love it that my garden has become a home to such things.
As I was watering the garden though, I began to hear an exuberant birdsong coming from the shaded area where I planted all of the lily of the valley, wake robins, and wood anemone.
Low and behold, a baby cardinal was hanging out among the flowers learning how to fly. He must have been too young to understand that Big People are very scary and to be avoided, because he was perfectly cheerful and continued singing, hopping around, and fluttering his wings even when I sat down less than two feet away from him. I held very still and watched him for about ten minutes. I finally put away the garden hose, fetched a glass of wine from the house, and then settled down nearby as he hopped around and fluttered his wings, then succeeded in flying up to a low branch, then down again, then back up, then down again for some extended cheeping and fluttering, and then finally the grand finale flew ZZZZIIIIIIPPPPP up and away into the taller trees.
I love it that my garden has become a home to such things.