Thursday, July 22, 2010
The Housing Situation
So I cannot blog, really,
the mind being dry and empty as a tin can put out for recycling by a conscientious householder.
Instead of writing something of grave import or practical use, I'm going to complain about the bird situation in my yard.
This requires an explanation.
A lengthy preamble.
A prorogation, even.
This next immediate bit is an example of why we don't do prologues. Because they are all a form of special pleading, aren't they?
I will now insert a fold so people do not have to upload the many pictures that follow if they do not want to.
I will just warn you that there is nothing about writing below the fold.
Just philosophy and birds.
Long-term sufferers from my blogging will know that the nice man who lived just a bit downhill next to me and worked for the Forest Service and kept a beautiful, wild back yard full of trees moved away, inexplicably, seeking Something Else in this American way we have of chasing new horizons
. . . and a very worthy man of a formerly military persuasion moved in next door to me.
He cut down all the trees and tore out all the bushes and rooted up the old, old daylillies and German iris
and planted grass.
And bedding plants.
He leafblows the Whole Monster Lawn at eight in the morning.
He picks up all the twigs and burns them. He polices the grounds.
Everything is very clean.
The possums left almost as soon as the moving trucks rolled away. They KNEW.
(I put in a picture of goldfinches because they are prettier than possums, frankly.)
One pair of cardinals remains out of four or five pair.
And this year I've seen only one hummingbird.
I am just peeved about the whole situation.
That was the prologue and it leads me to the matter of Bird Housing.
What it is:
I decided I'd put in some bird houses with all the mod cons. I left 'em out to weather all winter, then put 'em up in accordance with the best directions available on the net, taking into account the local wisdom of the Woman-up-the-road.
And I waited.
I had several snazzy models.
Or rather . . . nobody came and nested in the bird houses. They just nested in the trees, as per usual.
Except for one pair. They set up housekeeping here:
In the mailbox.
'Bout scared the mailman to death.