Year after year, this poor misguided bird insists on making her nest in the cabinet on the back porch; a cabinet, mind you, that houses my collie grooming tools and into which I plunge with great regularity. When I do, she flees and sits on a wisteria branch, scolding me unmercifully.
All spring and summer, she wakes me at dawn rise with her piercing song, easily recognizable, as she tells the world that this is HER back porch, HER cabinet, and HER nest. She often hatches two complete clutches of eggs, a total of 12 fledglings last summer.
I just had to take her picture. There will come a day when her song will be stilled and I will miss it terribly.
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All spring and summer, she wakes me at dawn rise with her piercing song, easily recognizable, as she tells the world that this is HER back porch, HER cabinet, and HER nest. She often hatches two complete clutches of eggs, a total of 12 fledglings last summer.
I just had to take her picture. There will come a day when her song will be stilled and I will miss it terribly.
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