Um, I'll have the duck, please?

I guess it takes a mud duck to realize we could all use a little duck in our lives. I love that the duck is named "Frank".

Guess whooooo?

My sister and brother-in-law often have a houseful of guests, but even they were surprised by this little fellow who showed up in their fireplace recently.

Little Pigwidgeon here was checked over by a wildlife rehabber, given a drink, and sent on his merry way.

I had my own screech owl encounter some years ago at my parents' house. I stepped out of the house into the garage, only to discover a little screech owl sitting on top of some shelving, about two feet from my head. Caught off guard, I was the one who did the screeching.

Wild wildlife

It's been a week of nonstop wildlife in my little backyard. Let's recap, shall we?

Wednesday evening, the pets and I were enjoying the lovely cool evening air in the backyard. Everyone was just kind of grooving out to his or her own thing, and other than making sure Pal didn't escape through the fence, I wasn't closely supervising the recreation action going on. Midge was camped out in the daylilies, a spot she likes. She'll sit there like a statue, watching the birds flit back and forth. It's been especially entertaining lately, with Mr. and Mrs. Wren using the cinquefoil growing along the top of the fence as the perfect perch from which to scold me.

All of a sudden, I heard rather shrill squeaking. I whipped around, noticing that Midge had a mouse in her mouth. "DROP IT!" I commanded in my best Cat Whisperer voice. And like any good well-trained cat, she completely ignored me. She leapt over the daylilies into the middle of the yard, where she proceeded to stand still, looking around without a clue. "Now what are you going to do, huh?" I asked nonchalantly. She then dropped the poor wee mousie, who lay shuddering on the grass.

Except that it wasn't a poor wee mousie at all. It was a poor wee SHREW. I can't believe I have enough actual field experience to tell the difference, but yep, it was a shrew. I nudged it with my sandal to see if it was still alive. It was, so I stood guard over it while all the pets milled about, looking for the object of all this excitement. The shrew roused itself and began to burrow down into the grass roots, where it just about disappeared. Like a good traffic cop (okay folks, move along, nothing to see here), I herded everybody back into the house.

**

On Friday night, you guessed it, we were all back outside, taking the air after dinner. This time, Pal, old kitty that he is, had his day in the sun. Again, with the indignant squeaking. Another shrew? The same shrew? How stupid can one shrew be? Pal leapt out from behind the lilac bush and dashed through the tomato plants, depositing something very tiny into the bee balm. I saw a tiny bundle of feathers trying very very hard to burrow its way into the corner of the fence (as in, if I can't see you, you can't see me). I picked it up, a tiny little baby bird, still alive. I didn't want to smush it, so I held it as lightly as I could. Alas, it wasn't tight enough, as wee baby bird, hopped out of my hand and back into the bee balm. Trying to keep my wits, and not wanting to fight Pal for the bird, I ushered everybody back in the house. I went back out and found the baby bird back in the same corner. It looked unharmed, but it was probably scared out of its wits. I managed to picked it up with a tighter grip this time. Looking at it closely, I could see that it was probably one of the baby wrens that had been in the nest box in the backyard. They had fledged! And this thing was obviously still figuring out how to navigate in the big wide world, and had had the misfortune to run into my cat.

So I carried Baby Wren back to the nest box, and she gladly dove back in. I figured that would give her a safe place to rest and get her strength back. The parents must not stick around to feed the babies, because no one has scolded or chattered at me all weekend.

**

Yesterday, we saw a little baby bunny in the side yard. I'm saying it's Button, even if it's not.

**

And today, I discovered that yellow jackets are trying to build a nest between my back door and the storm door. Grrr.

I've had enough backyard wildlife for awhile.

Meet the wrens

One of my father's hobbies was woodworking.  When I moved into this house about 10 years ago, he gave me an assortment of items that he made--in the photo above, you can see the butterfly house he built.

Among the pieces he gave me--bat house, garden bench--he also gave me a wren house.  This is a little nest box built specifically for wrens; it has a small entry hole and no perch so that other birds can't use it.  I hung it on the fence in the back yard, mostly for decoration. 

After all these years, a pair of wrens surprised me by moving in this spring, and I have fallen in love with these spunky little brown birds.  They sing and sing so sweetly, and although they may seem a drab brown from a distance, they have a beautiful striated pattern of feathers when you see them up close.

My pair has successfully hatched at least three little birdies in that nest box.  Those parents work so hard, flying in and out all day long, bringing in food and taking out the trash.  They are very protective too, scolding me fiercely every time I set foot in the backyard.  One of the parents (I don't know if it's the male or the female) is giving me a piece of its mind in the photo.

I love having this little family share my yard.  In a way, it's like one last little gift from my father.