It was a baby Phoebe bravely looking over the side of its soft mossy nest. To my uneducated eye, it didn't look like it had enough feathers to be contemplating first flight, but.....what do I know!
It blinked blandly and watched me move things around. I called up to Dave (you guessed it - painting upstairs) to come and see the baby. By the time he got downstairs, the deed was done. The nest was empty and the wee one was crouched down in the garden, peeping loudly.
Dave quickly went out to pick it up and return it to the nest but by the time he got to the front garden it was gone again. Ok, maybe it was ready to fledge.
It had managed to fly (I use the term loosely) up into a nearby Dogwood tree and it sat there as if trying to figure out what to do next.
|mom watches from the fence finial|
Mom stayed close, talking calmly to her child. This morning they were both gone. So glad I was able to watch.
So, today Dave put down the paint brush and turned his considerable talents to repairing a bit of the wear and tear from almost 38 years of our wonderful animals. Today it was the mullion in one of the kitchen windows that a young and energetic Sasha bit vigorously. Couldn't really blame her, it was our fault for giving her the run of the house while we were gone - she obviously wasn't in control of her youthful exuberance. We were lucky she didn't go right through the glass.
So many remnants of animals gone by.....a lightly chewed den coffee table leg, a few teeth marks in the baseboard behind the toilet (don't ask), some scratches in the door to the garage, courtesy of my dear devoted Golden, Nordic. Not much trouble for all the memories.
The barn holds scars of its previous inhabitants too. Impatient pawing made dents in the stall floors - "where is our dinner"! Marks on the sliding doors from long white teeth telling us it was time to go out, telling us not to walk so close, telling us to not feed "her" first, streaks of gooey meds. on the wall, where I wiped off what was spit back out at me. Long blonde and red mane and tail hairs stuck on the rough wood of the huge vertical beams - itchy necks and butts. Sounds nasty, but it wasn't. Every mark makes me smile now.
|a man in his workshop|
|hands of a craftsman|
Lewis....what a character he is. He is loving the freedom of the huge backyard. So much to patrol, so much to watch, so much grass to run and roll and romp in. Today, at cocktail hour, he discovered the chipmunk that lives in the downspout. The chippy wasn't happy about his discovery.
|Sasha waits in the background until something actually happens|
|Mr. Chippy squeals and Lewis barks - back and forth they go...|
|cocktails in the clouds|