Cool Cat

This morning I took a ride to visit my longtime friend, Bob. He lives in the woods, near Georgetown, Delaware. Bob wasn't there but his faithful cat Stormy, was there perched on the banister, waiting for his master. I love cats. Unfortunately I don't have one because my life partner, Bill, doesn't like cats. Ironically, the only pet cat I ever had was a cat named "Bobby." My friend's name (the owner of Stormy) is Bob. Bobby (the cat) was a gray tabby cat that took up with me when I was about 10 years old. My family lived in a second floor apartment, above the offices of Gindy Manufacturing Company. The Gindy trailer manufacturing plant was located next to the building where we had an apartment. Bobby the cat just showed up one day. Apparently he was surviving my mousing in the plant. We hit it off right away. I don't remember how many years I had Bobby, but one day when I came home from school, Bobby wasn't there to greet me. I asked my Mother if she had seen him. She told me that my Father had taken him to the SPCA because Bobby was spraying the front door. Thus ended my one and only pet cat. Someday I will rescue a cat from the local animal shelter to make up for that injustice that happened so many years ago. The cat featured in this video is named "Stormy." He showed up one stormy night at my friend Bob's home. He was soaked to the skin. Bob took him in out of the storm and gave him sheltr in his home. The next morning Stormy's little sister showed up. She looks just like Stormy with more delicate features. Unfortunately, Stormy is a Top Cat. He is a little rough with his little sister so she isn't around too much. Bob suspects she has another home nearby. Bob used to have a mouse problem. He no longer has that problem. Unfortunately, he doesn't have any little birds around either. Maybe I can borrow Stormy to solve my sparrow problem. The Purple Martins have left their birdhouse. I covered all the entrances with masking tape so the sparrow couldn't get in. Would you know that those sparrows tried all day to get in? Their determination is amazing. I notice that they did make a nest in my neighbor's PM birdhouse. His Purple Martins have also taken off. I'll leave the tape on for a few more days. I don't know how long it takes for the message to get through their little pea brain. I do notice they haven't built any more nests in the bluebird boxes I cleaned out. They really seem intent on building their nest in the Purple Martin house. I wonder what the fascination is with that house since they gave up so easily on the other houses. Maybe they feel safer at that height. It will be interesting to see how long it takes them to figure out they're not going to get in that bird house. The bluebird nest continues to do fine. The bluebird parents are very low key and don't seem to spend much time at their birdhouse but they do. I see them flitting back and forth in the backyard, reducing my insect population. Occasionally, one of the sparrows flies over towards their birdbox, but both bluebirds chase them away. I guess they've had enough of the bullying by the sparrows. Good for them. Other residents of my backyard are robins and catbirds. If I did have a cat, I probably wouldn't have many birds in my backyard. Unless if I had an inside cat. This last batch of baby bluebirds were out of their nest before they were ready to be on their own. Their parents had to feed them in the surround bushes for about a week. I sure would hate to see my puddy tat bringing home a baby bluebird in its mouth as a token of appreciation to me.

St. Francis

St. Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of animals and the ecology, is in my yard. This weather beaten statue of St. Francis also had an honored place in my yard when I lived on seven acres of hilly wooded land in Pennsylvania. Many birds have perched on top of his cement head, while taking a brief rest from building a new nest or foraging for food for their new nestlings in their nest. When I moved to Delaware from Pennsylvania in 2006, I left many landscape structures behind for the new owners of the property. I built my house in 1981 in a clearing on that wooded Pennsylvania hillside (see the slide show on the upper left of this blog page). One of the first things I did was ask my father to build some more of his birdhouses for my new property. My father had built birdhouses for years and had much success in attracting bluebirds and other beneficial species of birds to his three acres of land nearby. Each year without fail, the house wrens would arrive from their winter quarters in the south and take up residence again in those same birdhouses. They did this for the 25 years that I lived on that property. When I sold my house, I didn’t want to disturb the landscape too much for the annual visit by the wrens and all the other birds that called my seven acres in East Brandywine Township, Pennsylvania home. However, one landscape item that I brought with me was my St. Francis statue. To me, it is a symbol of how I would welcome the many new Delaware birds that would call my one acre of land in Sussex County, Delaware home. If you’ve read my previous blogs, you know I’ve had some difficulty with a few determined house sparrows who insist on nesting in my four blue bird trail houses and my Purple Martin birdhouse. The sparrows are determined to take over all of my birdhouses. While I have empathy for the sparrow, my property is opened to all and not just one very aggressive species of bird. After several frustrating attempts by me to completely ban the sparrows from my property, I have set aside one blue bird box for the sparrows to nest. They’re building a nest in it now but their hearts are still on that one apartment in the Purple Martin house. I’ve tried cleaning out their nest only to see them rebuild it. I’ve left open the door to the bird house apartment. The Determined Sparrow built an even more elaborate nest, to protect its eggs from the elements, even though the birdhouse apartment had no front on it. Yesterday morning, after tearing out that nest, I filled the apartment with a plastic bag from Walmart. As soon as I left, Mr. Determined was up there checking out the new obstacle. His lady friend joined him a short time later. They spent most of the day up there, on the ledge, wondering what to do. Talking to each other in quick little chirps. They continued to build their nest in the blue bird house I set aside for them, but I could tell they really wanted The Penthouse apartment. This morning, after breakfast, I went out to see if they were building another nest in the Purple Martin house. The white plastic Walmart bag was still visibile in the hole to the apartment, blocking entry. I checked the blue bird house where they were building a nest. It appears that they have put more nesting material in there. I looked across the back yard; I saw a pair of blue birds sitting on the other blue bird house. The third blue bird house between these two houses was still empty. Apparently, this bird house is located in No Man’s Land. I suspect Mr. Determined Sparrow is only reluctantly building his nest in the remaining blue bird house. Thus, it appears that the birds that populate my backyard are living in harmony now. Robins, and Grackles roam the thick green grass in search of worms and grubs to feed their young ones located in some secret unknown placethat only they know. Once in a great while a Peregrine Falcon makes a screeching swoop down from the sky, hoping to get lucky and snag an unsuspecting bird in its sharp talons. However, I haven’t seen the falcon for several weeks now. Perhaps it has found an abundant food supply elsewhere to feed its young. I will continue to monitor my back yard to insure that all of the birds have a safe home, with the help of St. Francis.

Eviction Day

Pulling the curtains back from my bedroom window this morning, I could see the sparrow fly up to the Purple Martin house with a couple of strands of straw in its beak. The little bird was determined to make a nest on the southern side of the multi apartment birdhouse. The previous two days I had taken out the sparrow’s nesting material only to see it immediaely fly back to the opening with more dried grass and stalks of small weeds. The Purple Martins swirled about its head, chattering in protest, but the little bird continued building its nest. The determined sparrow was not to be deterred even though it was out numbered. However, I had made my mind up to evict all the sparrows in my birdhouses today, especially the Purple Martin birdhouse which is a communal bird house and not conjunctive to sharing their apartment complex with an outsider like the sparrow. In the morning mist, with a light rain falling, I checked the other four bird boxes that border the acre of land behind my house. Two of the bird boxes had full nests. Both nests contained the brown spotted eggs of the sparrow. Another bird box had the beginnings of a sparrow nest. The fourth bird box, the original bird box that the Birdman had tossed nest and eggs out last Monday, continued to be empty. Perhaps the original occupant of that bird box gave up building its nest in that bird box. Yesterday and early this morning, I saw a pair of blue birds sitting on top of the bird box. Perhaps they were considering making a nest and raising their young. I put on my gloves, and pulled the sparrow’s nests out of both bird boxes, being careful not to break the eggs. Why, I don’t know. My actions seemed contradictory since I was destroying the sparrow's nests. Frank, the Birdman, said to throw the eggs in the brush “for the snakes to eat.” If there were baby birds in the bird boxes, I would have left them alone. After cleaning out the bird boxes I went back inside my house to observe. It didn’t take long until the sparrows came back to the empty bird boxes. I left the doors to the boxes opened, so they would not have the opportunity build new nests. In the misty rain, the sparrows perched on top of the boxes, and hopped down to the now open front of the box to look in and wonder in puzzlement what happened to their nest. I left the fronts of those boxes open the rest of the day. Later in the day, when the rain had stopped, I observed two blue birds dive bombing a furious sparrow who was now trying to make a nest in the original bird box. I immediately went out to that bird box at the far end of my yard. Upon my approach, the sparrow the blue birds flew away. I opened the front and saw the beginnings of a new sparrow nest of straw and dried grass. I tore it out and tossed it aside. I closed the front of the box, and went to the other bird boxes and also closed the fronts. I looked up to the Purple Martin bird house. The Purple Martins were sitting on the ledges outside their apartment bird house, contentedly chattering away. I did not see the sparrow of yesterday who was so furiously determined to build its nest in the Purple Martin house. Maybe they got the message. They are not welcomed in this neighborhood. They will have to go elsewhere to make their nests and raise their young. I came to this conclusion after reading about sparrows and their aggressive nesting habits. Sparrows are not native to the North American continent. One story has it that an Englishman brought over sparrows, along with non-natives birds like the European Starling, in the 19th century to New York City. His purpose was to introduce as many bird species to America as were mentioned in William Shakespeare’s plays. Another story has it that these non native birds were introduced to this continent to control certain insect pests. Of course what happened was the Law of Unintended Consequences. There are millions and millions of sparrows in the North American continent today. Their aggressive nesting habits have almost wiped out the less aggressive American blue bird. I think what really convinced me was the fact that sometimes the sparrow will even kill the bluebird and will build its nest over the top of the still live baby blue birds in their nest, thus killing them. As harsh as it may seem, I made a decision that my acre of land will be a home to the native American species such as the Purple Martin, Barn Swallow and American blue bird. Sparrows, starlings and other non native American species can come to visit, but the blue bird houses that I installed will only be a home for blue birds. The Purple Martin bird house will only be a home for Purple Martins. The gourds that I have hanging from the Purple Martin house will only be a home for Barn Swallows. I equate the sparrow’s aggressive behavior in taking over in the same league as the European explorers who entered the North American continent over 500 years ago and took over from the native Americans. An even more extreme example would be like a biker gang arriving in the development where I live and taking over my house by force just because they are stronger than me. While I believe everyone and everything deserves to live, I do believe there are limits as to where they will live and how much their aggressive behavior is rewarded. On my land I am creating a habitat for certain native American birds. The sparrows can rebuild their nest as many times as they want. In the end, I will prevail. I am bigger. Those birdhouses will either house blue birds or they will be empty. I will be a good landlord. The Birdman would be pleased.

The Empty Bird Box

“You see these eggs? They’re brown. They’re no good.” He then threw the eggs across the gravel road that borders my property, into the newly planted corn field. “See this nest? It’s a sparrow’s nest. You don’t want this nest. They’re trash. I shoot sparrows. They’re not a native bird.” He then tore out the carefully constructed nesting material and also tossed it across the road towards the same area where the broken eggs laid in the corn field. He saw the look on my face. I was dumbfounded. First, he destroyed a living thing, if a bird’s nest could be called living. Also, he was presumptuous in deciding for me what birds are allowed on my property in my birdhouses. His name is Frank. Frank the Birdman. I had recently contracted with him to install a Purple Martin house on my open acre of land behind my house. I called him in today because the nor’easter of yesterday had permanently tilted the long pole which held the birdhouse he installed two weeks ago. I wanted him to fix it. I also arranged for a delivery of mulch. He looked at me and said “Don’t you want to be a good landlord to the right birds?” Of course I did want bluebirds in the four bluebird houses that lined my back yard. However, last year and this year the sparrows had taken over. It is not in my nature to destroy a living thing. I become upset whenever I see the chicken trucks that daily haul thousands of chickens to slaughter in this area of Delaware where I live. Frank turned to look at my other bluebird houses. I knew one at the other end of my property had birds ready to come out. I was trimming the grass around the base of the birdhouse on Sunday and I heard the baby birds making a noisy racket. They were ready to come out any day. He asked if there were sparrows in that bird box. I didn’t answer except to say “I don’t want to bother baby birds.” He looked at me like I just stepped off a space ship. I could surmise what he was thinking: “Oh, one of those bleeding hearts.” He told me that sparrows and starlings are not native to this country and are driving out the native species. He said I needed to see a dead bluebird on her nest then perhaps I would change my mind. I changed the subject. I gave him his check for the mulch delivery. He said he would be back later in the afternoon to fix the Purple Martin House bird pole. After he left, I checked the bluebird house that housed the baby sparrows. First, I tapped on the box. No sound. Then I ever so slowly opened the front of the box. Five baby sparrows were revealed to me. They were motionless. I thought perhaps they were taking a nap. But I knew better. Baby birds, when they’re about to leave the nest, make lot of noise because they’re hungry and anxious to go. I closed the door and went back to my shed to do some chores. I couldn't get the baby birds off of my mind. I looked back at the bird house to see if the parents came back. They were there, sitting on top of the bird box. Still, there was no cacophony of noise from the inside the bird box. Curious, I went back and again slowly opened the front door to the bird box so as not to disturb the baby birds inside. They were in the same position. I looked closely to see if they were breathing. I could not detect if they were breathing. One baby bird was at the top with it mouth partly opened. I got a small stick and gently pressed it. It did not move. Then I gently lifted the small frame of the baby bird. Still no movement. Lifting the bird, I saw four other smaller baby birds below in the nesting. They did not move either. The nest had a foul damp smell. They were all dead. They probably died by drowning yesterday during the nor’easter. Frank the Birdman would be pleased.

Sunny Days Again

As twilight descends upon this wonderful sunny spring day, I can report that life for this retired gentleman has returned to sunny days. Yesterday I traveled the 37 mile one way trip to my dentist in Dover to have my new partial denture refitted. I could not use it the way it was. Wearing it was giving me a constant toothache, and I couldn’t chew food on that side of my mouth. Something had to be done or else I was going to go without, thus becoming a true toothless Sussex County native. Good news! Dr. Jolly (yes, that is my dentist’s name) performed her magic on my denture and I am now among the fully- toothed citizens of the eastern shore of Sussex County. If it wasn’t fixed I would have to seriously considering moving to the other side of Route 1 to Millsboro or thereabouts thus joining the many Sussex County toothless natives who live west of Route 1. More good news, my partner has come out of his depression. We are doing things together again. This morning we had our weekly Saturday morning breakfast at Zorba's Restaurant in Rehoboth Beach. Zorba's, formerly the Ocean Point Grille, is a family owned Greek restaurant. It has a comfortable, if not elegant, ambiance and serves home cooked food in a friendly all inclusive atmosphere. This is a restaurant that makes single diners feel comfortable. Food is good, prices are reasonable, service is great, and (a big plus) no screaming kids. What more could two elderly gentlemen want in the way of dining out experience? After breakfast we stopped at Lowes and purchased eight 4 by 4s to build garden boxes at the edge of our back yard. Yesterday, the Birdman of Milton put in two birdhouses for us. One is a purple martin birdhouse and the other is a bluebird house. He told us the purple martins will be arriving the first of May. The bluebird house is positioned directly outside our sunroom window where Bill can watch the activity all spring and summer. Who needs the Disney channel when we have so much of nature right outside our window? Today the temperature reached 78 degrees with no wind and some humidity. It was a tantalizing preview of the long, hazy summer days to come. Perhaps the only downside of the warm weather is that it takes me away from my PC and updating my blogs and website. It isn’t easy sitting in front of my computer with the outside beckoning me through my window. It is easier during the cold blustery days of winter to make the choice to bury myself into my computer and all its addictive charms. For now I will have to balance the lure of outside with the passion of keeping current my blogs and web site current. Life is good.