Yesterday I noticed a pile of debris on one corner of my front porch. A sizable little pile it was too. Strange. Then I realized it was the result of a bird’s nest-making attempts. Every spring birds try to nest on my porch, either on the narrow little ledges near the top of the columns or on top of the porch light fixture. None have ever succeeded. The spaces are just too narrow. It’s always the little house finches we have around here. Sweet little birds, but just not little enough. The pile must have represented days of construction attempts by a very industrious little bird.
And sure enough, there were bits of grass and a little mud up on the ledge above.
I kicked the grass off the side of the porch and forgot about it.
Today I heard birds twittering out on the porch and looked to see if the finches were still at it. I was amazed to see another pile of grass (top photo), every bit as big as the one I’d disposed of yesterday. All that in one day!
But that wasn’t as surprising as the bird on the ledge. Not a little finch but a big fat, very determined robin. I should have guessed, since robins use mud in their nest construction, but there obviously wasn’t enough room up there for a robin. I thought. It looks like this robin is determined to stay.
I wish I could talk to the animals. I wish I could explain to her that she’s picked a miserably small, uncomfortable place for her nest-that-isn’t. If she lays her eggs up there, they will surely get knocked down. If not, and if they hatch, the hatchlings will surely fall to their deaths. I don’t know whether to intervene before she lays any eggs (assuming she hasn’t already) or just leave her alone. “Look, chica, we need to have a little talk about your choice of nesting sites … ”
You know, I seem to recall that one spring I actually found a fragment of robin’s eggshell in the bird debris on the porch (can’t mistake that blue shell) and wondered how the heck it got there. Do you suppose she had an almost-nest out there once before and I didn’t recognize it as such?