After I was given the bluebird house in March (click here) it quickly became clear that Carolina chickadees would be the tenants. Not bluebirds. It also is clear that those chickadees are among the hardest-working creatures in birdland.
I went out to the front garden and opened both the plexiglass viewing window on the side and the front door, hoping the husband and wife were not home. They weren't.
Through the plexiglass:
I had seen the two birds carrying these twigs through their little oval entrance, but I never would have believed they had carried this many. And that they had placed them j-u-u-u-st so.
Opening the pull-down front door, I learned the birds and I have something in common: We both love mosses. They borrowed from my stash and neatly tucked it into their castle.
The moss clearly was in first, apparently making a cushion for the twigs. All manner of other materials are woven through the nest, including leaves, pine needles and fur. Don't ask.
Whether the birds have finished building, I don't know. When they'll have little chickadees, I don't know either. I look, I listen, and I hope they survive Cat Bette, who seems disinterested in the birds – and afraid of my threats.
Alas, she does have a history. Click here for her rap sheet from my Connecticut garden.