The Willow Glen Resident

Photograph courtesy of Cookie Curci-Wright

Fly Away Home: Birds residing in this columnist's backyard usually eschew manmade housing in favor of building their own nests.

Remember When

Sanctuary isn't strictly for the birds

By Cookie Curci-Wright

It's an unfortunate fact that the construction of new homes for people is forcing birds to take flight and escape their natural nesting areas and habitats. Some years back, in the hopes of attracting some of these feathered refugees, my husband and I eagerly created a backyard bird sanctuary.

Maybe it was the memory of Grandma singing Italian arias to her backyard songbirds, or perhaps it was Papa's reverence for wildlife paintings by John James Audubon that inspired my interest in our feathered friends. On the other hand, maybe I'd seen far too many "Tweety Bird" cartoons as a kid. Whatever the reason, something spurred me on to turn my backyard into a bird-friendly environment. I spent hours reading up on all the different types of birds, their feeding habits and their nesting preferences. I learned that some birds feed on the ground and others high in the treetops; that some eat berries and seeds while others prefer insects and worms.

My husband Dan and I set out to create the perfect housing complex for our winged visitors. We painstakingly constructed several custom-made birdhouses. We climbed high on ladders and placed the cabins strategically around the backyard. We filled feeders with a variety of millet, sunflower and thistle seeds. We placed containers of nectar throughout the area and set up bird baths and a cascading water fountain.

When we finally finished, we grabbed our binoculars and retreated to our kitchen-window vantage point where we could watch and wait ... and wait ...

Weeks passed. Spring and summer went past. Still no interest in our boarding houses. Endless waves of waxwings perched daily in our treetops, but they showed no interest in our backyard except to spatter it with a bombardment of digested blackberries.

Gorgeous bluebirds and orioles swooped in and out. Mockingbirds, sparrows, chickadees and wrens all flew past. They sampled from our feeders and sipped from our bottles of nectar, leaving behind a mass of droppings and empty shells, but still our luxurious bird condos remained uninhabited.

Through March winds and April rains, year after year, the birds have ignored our vacancy signs. But I'm pleased to say the houses haven't remained empty all this time.

Our plentiful supply of sunflower seeds and peanuts caught the eye of a brown squirrel. "Brownie" and her friends paid us daily visits, aggressively searching through the bird seeds to indulge in the rich black sunflower seeds. Watching the daily antics of Brownie and her pals helped to ease our disappointment at the lack of birdhouse boarders.

Later that spring, I spotted a tiny head peeping out from inside one of our largest birdhouses. Peering through my binoculars, I jumped for joy as I tried to identify the baby bird. It took me awhile, until finally realizing we were the landlords to a family of brown squirrels!

We immediately replenished our feeders with peanuts, dried corn and sunflower seeds. That summer, we took our front-row seats at the kitchen window to watch the show. As the infant squirrels grew, they struggled for dominance, with the smallest one fighting for a spot at the peeking hole. Three sets of dark, inquisitive eyes took turns peering back at us.

That summer, our days were filled with the fun of watching our growing family of acrobats perform their circus antics. These proficient high-wire performers danced along tree branches and narrow fence tops. They sprang precariously from rooftops to tree branches, swinging through the air with the greatest of ease. The greatest fun came when we observed the novice baby squirrels bravely following their mother, Brownie, onto rooftops and treetops, testing their untried acrobatic abilities.

Brownie eventually trusted us enough to allow us to feed her and her family by hand. That's when we began buying peanuts by the sackload. We bought a lot of peanuts that year, but it was a small price to pay for our summer's entertainment.

About a year ago, after a powerful June wind, I discovered a baby bird that had been blown from its nest. The tiny bird was unharmed and lay wriggling on my back lawn. At the same moment, my cat also noticed the chirping bird. I quickly scooped the wayward fledgling into a paper bag and deposited it safely in our finest birdhouse. With so many backyard trees, it was impossible to guess from which tree the newborn had fallen. My only hope was that the mother bird would hear its cries and return to feed it. The sun was beginning to set, and I knew if the mother didn't return soon, the baby bird had little chance for survival. I watched diligently through my binoculars, hoping for a bluebird, robin or wren to come back for its chick.

Suddenly, hovering over the birdhouse was a tiny hummingbird. A moment later, she was tending to the little newborn. I'd have never guessed that the dull, gawky, baby bird was the offspring of a streamlined hummingbird. But as the days passed, and the little fella began to grow, he took on the unmistakable features and iridescent luster of a ruby-throated hummer. His beak, which looked average at birth, began to grow and grow until it was almost as long as he was, earning him the name "Little Pinocchio." We watched with a feeling of delight and trepidation as Pinocchio took his first solo flight, and we were thrilled when he made it back safely. Eventually, our backyard boarder left the sanctuary of the birdhouse to take his rightful place in the scheme of things. Today, hummingbirds buzz in and out of our yard daily. We like to believe that little Pinocchio is among them.

It's been several years since we set up our bird hospice, and still no tenants. But hope springs eternal, and every season we prep our houses and give them a fresh coat of paint to entice prospective residents.

Perhaps it's not the houses the birds object to, but the area in which they're perched and their close proximity to my three household cats: Nikki, Squeegee and Gray Dude. After all, as everyone knows, when selecting a new home, the most important factor to be considered is location, location, location.

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