By Janet Dodrill
Every spring birds fly and chirp around my windows and attempt to build nests in the inner corners of my aluminum awnings.
After a couple weeks of frequent visits by male female North American Finch couples, and lots of noise as they express excitement at discovering a location, in addition to hard work and frustration, they realize that there are no good areas in the shelter of my awnings, for a nest to stay and for them to prepare to lay their eggs and nurture their young.
The pieces of sticks, branches, stems, feathers, twine, and other debris-turned-building-material, lay scattered about my drive as the result of their fruitless efforts. They simply leave, as time is crucial, searching for other prospective locations. I wish I could tell them every year when they keep coming back with hope and enthusiasm. But then I would not be here to greet the onset of spring which they represent.
I share their sense of defeat when I look down and see their abandoned particles. But only for a day or two, then when I am unaware, they come back and quickly collect and transport most of their materials to put into building their new dream home nest down the street.