Nature on My Patio

 My patio is what I love the most about our house.  It's a covered patio, with fans, lights, a table and chairs, and lots of plants.  It's not screened, so we are open to the nature that surrounds us.  Just sitting out there cheers me.  Sometimes we are visited by critters, including lizards, frogs, raccoons, armadillos, and lots of birds.

Occasionally, birds will nest in a plant on the patio.  I watch as the mom and dad busily build the nest; I wait for the appearance of eggs, mom and dad taking turns sitting on the eggs, babies hatching, mom and dad feeding the tiny arrivals.  I hear the faint chirping of the newborns and hope that I will be around to watch as the parents urge the little ones to leave the nest.  I've seen that nest-leaving operation only once, but it was a beautiful and life affirming event.  

A few months ago, I noticed the frantic activity that accompanies nest building.  Two Carolina Wrens were tearing back and forth from a large Christmas Cactus on the patio.  I was a bit surprised because that plant is fairly low to the ground; usually the birds choose one of my hanging plants or a plant that sits on the top level of my plant stand.  I watched as the ritual progressed: back and forth nest building with twigs, leaves, bits of moss.  Finally, the nest was ready, and the first egg arrived, then the second, and finally the fifth.  Mom and dad did egg sitting duty and soon there were little babies.  Feeding time began. Mom and dad took turns bringing various icky treats to their brood; worms and bugs were favorites.  The babies made tiny chirping sounds of appreciation.  

One morning I saw that the nest had been disturbed.  What could I do?  I could worry, but not much else.  I am an observer and not a member of the family.  The very next day, the nest was on the ground.  There were four screeching, featherless baby birds on the patio floor.  They were alive but covered in dirt.  Should I try to rescue them?  Will their parents abandon them if I interfere?  Is it my place to interfere?  "Oh, hell," I thought, "I have to try."  I gathered the nest, putting it back together as best I could.  I put the babies back where they belonged, and I hoped for the best.

The next morning, I saw Mom shaking the nest.  "She's shaking that dirt off her babies," I thought.  Sure enough, the feeding started up again as if nothing had happened.  

The circle of life can be a real bitch.  The following day, I saw Dad flying back and forth from the nest, looking lost and confused.  Then Mom came along and did the same.  When they left, I went out to confirm my worst fears: the babies were gone.  I didn't want to think about how they had disappeared; I just looked at that empty nest and I cried.  I think it was a raccoon, but I don't know.  I wish the birds had built their nest in a higher, less accessible spot, but I can't control any of that.  I know nature can be cruel.

A few weeks later, I saw two Cardinals, a male and a female, tearing around the back of my house.  They were just as busy as the Carolina Wrens had been.  Their nest wasn't on the patio; it was on a branch deep in a bush.  I had to really search for it, but I found it.  A week after that, an egg appeared.  Life.