Scented Garden Birds

These birds don't mind being photographed!

The resident birds have come to expect their bug buffet after a watering, and they follow my path, tucking in as the disturbed beetles and wood bugs dash out from the shower, sputtering and stumbling.  We wink at one another, those birds and I, conspiratorial in our symbiotic ritual.  In what other place would I have such a perfect role?  I, enjoying each plant as it takes it's share of water, and the birds cleaning up the beds after me, clearing the excess populations.

It is an art the birds must learn, this garden-specific ritual.  From their fledgling flight the babies of our garden are led to exact locations at exact times of day and year.  "Over here is the birdbath. She changes it every two days when she waters.  After the insect snack we dip in." This is one of their instructions. 

This year one of the babies was particularly obstinate about fledging.  He hung onto the little perch outside his birdhouse all day, dashing back inside when mum or dad patiently would land there with him. 

Eventually though, later in the still-light evening, he made his attempt.  When I caught up with him he was fluttering around in the cherry tree, missing his landing and crashing through the leaves. I could almost hear his little heart pounding.  The others hipped and hoorayed loudly and fluttered close to him making quite a racket in the old tree.  Then they wafted down to the path calling to Junior, each making a big palaver about pecking in the thyme, exaggerating their task in the teaching of it.  I had just watered you see.

They have more patience than I.  I believe the little rascal was just seeking attention.  Once the rest got fully involved in the task at hand he quite capably floated down and took his place!  What a cutie though, with his little mouth markings that serve as targets for mum to feed, still on his cheeks. 

A busy Dad

See the little one on top of the frog?

Click to enlarge.  There is a bird at the edge of the bath.