My mom and I take a girls' weekend to the Amish countryside every fall. Lots of shopping and no housework. Bliss. Really.
This last trip fell in early November. We were gearing up Christmas shopping with hopes of being finished by Thanksgiving to ensure we "enjoyed" the season without the crowded shops. Sometimes we're successful. Sometimes we're not. This particular trip, at least as far as I was concerned, was a good one. I had found my present. I bought it and then later informed Bruce his shopping for *me* was complete. Luckily he was relieved I took the pressure off.
So the gift? Oh yeah. A six-compartment bird house. Big. Birdhouse. It sits upon a 4x4 at one corner of my vegetable garden . It sat through rain. It sat through frost. It sat through snow. It emerged as a popular spot in our yard as spring made it clear it had sprung.
Throughout the last month we've watched busy industrious birds. The kids will sit, yes really, the 2 year old and the almost 5 year old will sit mesmerized by this house. They were transfixed by those small flying creatures carrying twigs and long grasses in and out of that tiny building. Of the six compartments of our birdhouse, at least 4 have some type of nest.
Last week the family thought I was hearing things. (It's a well established fact that I'm slightly off my rocker so why not?) Whenever I got close to the bird house I could swear I heard chirping. I could see nothing -- but I could hear enough to know something had hatched.
Today? Vindication! Today we saw proof. I was outside watering the gardens when I heard distinct, loud chirping. I turned just in time to see a mother bird settle onto the resting ledge and the wide open, small infant bird beak poke out in response to her presence.
So yeah. Listen. I've got cameras and I'm not afraid to use them. In fact, I'm a tad obsessed with using them. I've discovered if you stand quiet and still long enough, you can 'almost' close enough to the bird house to get good photos. In fact, you CAN get close enough that a little cropping produces the shot you had hoped you'd capture when you set out on this audubon adventure. Something like this: