Fleep, Flipe, Flup

Run For It, It's Chickasaurus!

A pair of Carolina wrens have made a nest in an ornamental birdhouse on the porch near the back door. They've been there a few weeks and it seemed like forever before there was any sign of baby birds. I don't disturb them if I can help it, even to the point that I've barely seen the young. I see the adults come and go; they are always spying me and trying to distract me from the nest with their birdsong. The wrens have a double approach to singing, sometimes chirping in a song like manner and other times sounding out noises like some kind of insects. Years ago, I thought that sound WAS insects until I happened to see one of the wrens making the sound close to me. Whichever sounds they may make, it's remarkable that such small birds can sing with such volume. I don't know if it fools other predators, but it fools me as to where they may be! Yesterday and today I've been answering their chirps with imitative whistling. Though I'm not very good at it, they seem to realize my sounds are imitations or aimed at them and they've been "answering" me. I don't know why; they're so close to me when I do it, they must know it's me. Maybe they think it's all helping to distract me from the babies if they keep it up. In other years, I used to tease back and forth meowing at the catbirds. They sing, but they do also meow like a cat! I guess they're that hopeful that I'm a cute little birdie they can mate with! (Nobody ever said birds were smart.) I guess they're here to entertain me, and mostly I don't eat them. Unless they're chickens, who do not have a good press. How could one possibly feel guilty about eating chickens? I suppose there was a chickasaurus way back in time who may have had admirable qualities other than tasting good, but I never met that one. Just as well; I've hate to meet a chicken the size of a Volvo. Come to think of it, I'd hate to meet anything alive that was the size of a Volvo. I'm not all that comfortable about Clifford The Big Red Dog.

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