Hideaway Harvest Surprise

 

Some women get excited about little blue boxes from jewelry stores.

I get excited about little blue eggs discovered in wheat stubble. 

(I guess I wouldn't know whether I'd be just as excited about Tiffany jewelry boxes. But, honestly, I doubt it.)

I took Randy to the field after an early lunch last Friday so he could get started cutting again. As I was turning around to leave, he excitedly waved me over.

"Look what I found!" 

Near the driveway, there was a small nest nestled in wheat stubble. The wheat there had already been cut. But the nest survived.

I moved a few wheat heads over for a photo op to give some context.

 

And when I got back to the house, I messaged my wildlife friend, Pam, asking what kind of nest it might be.

2016, Kim's County Line photo

She thinks it's belongs to a Dickcissel. I've misidentified that same bird in the past, thinking it was a meadowlark, but another Facebook friend pointed out my mistake. 

2019, Kim's County Line photo

They are frequent flyers in our area. I've taken a couple of photos of them as we've fixed fence or been checking pastures. 

Pam told me, "They have unmarked blue eggs and nest in grasses or very low shrubs." Well, wheat is sort of like that, I thought.

I did a little more research about Dickcissels, looking up information on Cornell Lab's All About Birds. I didn't feel so badly about my earlier misidentification, when the Cornell site said that the "chunky grassland bunting is colored like a miniature meadowlark, with a black V on a yellow chest."

The best place to find Dickcissels is in overgrown pastures, savannahs, and croplands in the central Great Plains. ... Their song is fairly short but hard to miss, a clicky buzzing dick-dick-ceessa-ceessa. Watch for males sitting on barbed wire fences, posts, and shrubby trees as they launch into song over and over again.   

Throughout the year Dickcissels require grassland habitats, but they are rarely picky about those habitats. In the summer months they are most common in native prairies and restored grasslands, but they also nest in lightly grazed pastures, hayfields, fallow agricultural fields, and even fence rows and roadsides. Female Dickcissels build the nest, a bulky cup woven out of weeds and grasses. The interior is often lined with fine grass and, sometimes, hair.

Egg Length: 0.8-0.9 in

Egg Width: 0.6-0.7 in

Incubation Period: 12-13 days

Nesting Period: 8-10 days

Egg Description: Unmarked, pale blue

Cornell Lab's All About Birds website

It's kind of like finding a needle in a haystack. Whether the mother finds the nest again, I don't know. But it was still exciting to find our miniature treasure among our "amber waves of grain."

To hear a Dickcissel sing and see it in a natural habitat, click on this link from Cornell.

Lilacs, Bird Nests and May Day

 

To find the air and the water exhilarating

To be refreshed by a morning walk or an evening saunter

To be thrilled by the stars at night

To be elated over a bird's nest or a wildflower in spring.

These are some of the rewards of a simple life.

John Burroughs, American naturalist and essayist

May arrived on the coat-tails of April showers, causing the backyard lilacs to gleam with delicate dew. The lilacs' fragrance mingles with the aroma of raindrop-tinged earth on this May Day morning. It's as though the Earth is celebrating May Day with its basket overflowing.

Though it may not feel like spring with cooler-than-normal temperatures, the backyard flowers and shrubs are waking up from their winter's nap. American naturalist and essayist John Burroughs said it better than me:

Oh, spring is surely coming!

Her couriers fill the air. 
 

Each morn are new arrivals.

 Each night her ways prepare.
 

 I scent her fragrant garments. 

Her foot is on the stair.

John Burroughs, American naturalist and essayist

A bird's nest holds the promise of new life amid spring flowers.

A single robin's egg is a splash of blue in an old evergreen bordering our backyard fuel tanks.

And the bees buzz with excitement, gathering nectar from the lilac bushes.

The smell of moist earth and lilacs hung in the air

 like wisps of the past and hints of the future.

Margaret Miller

Today is May Day. When Jill and Brent were little, we made and delivered May baskets. They are traditionally filled with flowers and treats and left hanging on a friend's or neighbor's front doorknob. Once the basket is in place, the deliverer rings the doorbell and runs off to hide and watch the recipient's reaction.

Randy's folks lived just two miles north of us when Jill and Brent were small, and we often delivered a May basket to them. Their over-the-top reactions always thrilled my little cohorts. It wasn't long until Jill and Brent couldn't contain the "surprise" and burst out from the bushes to greet Grandma and Grandpa.

I suppose I have photos of these events ... somewhere in one of the tubs full of photos. But without a full-blown reconnaissance mission, I didn't locate one (though here's a cute one from that time period).

This year, the lilacs under the old windmill in our backyard are blooming in time for May Day. Some years, they are past their prime by May 1.

The lilacs are not the only nod to spring.

The spirea bush looks like miniature bridal bouquets in a sea of green.

Though we wouldn't have thought about needing rain after 15 inches fell in a month last fall, we are grateful for the 1.70 inches of moisture we've gotten this week. It should knock the dust down as we sort and move cows and calves this afternoon and tomorrow. And it's good on the corn that was just planted, too.

Happy May Day!

Independence Day

Independence Day came a day early for some feathered guests.

This year, a pair of barn swallows chose an unused porch on the south side of our house for their nest-building site.

I don't know whether they liked it better or not, but I've liked their new southerly address this year.

2017

Last year, they took up residence at our back door, the one we go in and out of several times a day. They were the epitome of messy house guests, leaving their "calling cards" all over our back steps.

Out of sight, out of mind this year.

I'd see the parent swallows hanging out on the same backyard wire. But they weren't dive bombing me as I used the door.

Randy told me the birds were about to outgrow the nest, so I decided to venture closer for a photo op the evening of July 3rd. If you look closely, I think you can see five. I got one photo snapped before they flew the coop -literally.

Independence Day came a day early. And, no, I did not get video of them flying away. Randy, who was swathing hay at the time, asked if I'd captured their departure. I'm not that quick. With a rush of wings, they were gone. I couldn't even see where they'd flown. Sorry Mama and Papa Barn Swallow. I didn't intend to give your babies a push out of the nest.

Their sudden departure made my heart beat a little faster - kind of like a surprise boom tossed into a colorful show of aerial fireworks. That's as close as we got to real fireworks this year. We watched the New York City and Washington, D.C., shows on television so Randy could be up early today to rake hay.

But, let's not hang that "Vacancy" sign out quite yet. Last evening at dusk, Randy noticed that a barn swallow was hanging out at the nest. We're not sure whether it was one of the parents, wanting to know where their babies had gone? But we think it was a juvenile ... kind of like that college student who wants to be independent but still likes mama's home-cooked meals and laundry service.

It wasn't there this morning, so we'll see if it's time to send in the housekeeping crew and get the "bird motel" cleaned up for good. 

Flying the Coop

There's been an exodus from the County Line. No, Randy and I aren't planning a move to a retirement home ... at least, not yet.

But our backdoor visitors have flown the coop, so to speak. Maybe they are still flying around in the vicinity, but they are no longer in the nest above the back door.

Last Friday, I got the final photo of all four of the fledglings.

Their numbers soon dwindled to three ...

... then two.

Randy watched the final one fly away Saturday morning. (Ugh! I missed it!)

Their parents are still hanging out on the wires nearby. I guess they are contemplating their lives as "empty nesters." I speak from experience: It takes awhile to adjust.

Backdoor Guests

"Backdoor guests are best."

I've seen the country-style wooden plaques in gift shops that say that. However, I grew up in a rural Kansas farm home. My mom wanted guests to come to the front door. And I'd have to say I agree with her.

At the front door, guests aren't forced to weave their way through the cheat-filled socks and dusty shoes we've shed at the backdoor. They don't see the recycling bins filled with empty cans or the pile of newspapers. They aren't walking past the broom and dustpan that are stashed beside the extra freezer.

If they come to the front door, they can be welcomed into the living room, where there's at least a better chance that things will be picked up and in some semblance of order.

We've had a couple of backdoor guests the past few weeks. As I wrote earlier, Randy and I both tried knocking down a barn swallow nest from our small back porch. 

 

May 2017 - You can see some of the nest-building materials on the bird's beak!

In the end, I guess the birds were more persistent than we were. (Next year, I will definitely try some of the suggestions offered by my Facebook friends, like hanging plastic bags to discourage a new bird suburb development, a move that Shirley called "redneck but effective.")

The pair of barn swallows tolerated us, and we tolerated them. They were often sitting on their nest, but they'd fly away as we approached. As they got used to us, though, they were less likely to hurriedly leave their eggs behind. They usually did swoop quickly out of the way when the back door opened.

The robin's nest - May 8, 2017

The swallow's nest was built so close to the porch ceiling that we couldn't see into the nest, unlike the robin's nest that was constructed on our 4-wheeler racks earlier this spring and which I moved for plenty of "photo ops."

 

Construction of the mud-based nest didn't allow for moving the nest, so we watched and waited. Randy was tall enough he could stick his hand into the nest, and he knew there were eggs there. Then last week, we had a population boom in the neighborhood. 

If we're honest, we've kind of enjoyed our backdoor guests. Well ... except for the bird poo on the steps. Yes, next year, we'll try to do a better job of discouraging the building of a new "house" in the neighborhood. And these guests won't be welcome at the front door either. They give a whole new meaning to the phrase "noisy neighbors."

We thought there were three babies. On Saturday, I discovered there were four, but this was the best I could do with a photo.

Backdoor Neighbors Hard To "Swallow"

"On the Banks of Plum Creek" was just one of the Laura Ingalls Wilder books among my childhood favorites. We are writing our own story "On the banks of Peace Creek."  Peace Creek is less than half a mile from Randy's childhood home. Our cattle spend time in what we call the Peace Creek pasture. Our daily tasks take us over the bridges that mark the various crossings for the meandering creek. .

Peace Creek has an influx of new neighbors. No, there's not a sudden population boom of people on the Stafford/Reno County line. But we do seem to have a whole lot of birds.

 

We were on an excursion to see if I could find a rainbow. The sun had come out after a rain, and it seemed like the right conditions. I may not have found a rainbow in the sky, but we certainly found a bevy of barn swallows.

 

We parked at one of the bridges over Peace Creek so I could take photos with the deep blue sky and storm clouds in the background. Before long, the air was filled with soaring and sweeping barn swallows, who didn't seem to like our invasion of their space and protested rather loudly.

Randy climbed down the banks and took photos of the nests. They completely lined one side of the bridge buttress.

The Audubon Society says:

One of our most familiar birds in rural areas and semi-open country, this swallow is often seen skimming low over fields with a flowing, graceful flight. It seems to have adopted humans as neighbors, typically placing its nest in barns or garages, or under bridges or wharves; indeed, it is now rare to find a Barn Swallow nest in a site that is not man-made.

None of the bridge dwellers were ready for their close-up, as old film star Gloria Swanson famously told Mr. DeMille. But I had a couple of photos of them from 2015. Until then, I hadn't realized how pretty they are. They usually dart around so quickly, catching insects mid-air, that I've never seen their pretty plumage.

"If swallows nested in farm buildings, it meant well-being and good fortune for the owners. People believed that the presence of these birds protected farm animals from diseases and curses and buildings from fires." 

From Spring Alive

We can use all the luck we can get, I suppose. And while we don't mind the swallows who've taken up residence under the bridges, we aren't as fond of two persistent ones who seem determined to build a nest over our back door.

You'd think they'd get the message after both Randy & I have knocked the nest down multiple times.

May 2017 - You can see some of the nest-building materials on the bird's beak!

But, no, they keep collecting material to add. And I don't really appreciate the dive bombing either. We were here first!

Though we had to settle for rainbow colors on birds and banks instead of an actual rainbow, we found plenty of beauty on our afternoon drive along Peace Creek.

Sometimes, the journey doesn't go as planned. But there can be just as much joy in a detour.