Sometimes circumstances happen of which we have absolutely no control. At that point we are faced with a dilemma as to what measures we should take to get ourselves out of that situation or to determine what would be the best possible steps to take to remedy our mistake. Such is the case for me right now. Due to a hot, June, Sunday afternoon in East Texas I have created a dilemma.
I am a gardener. I love all things (nearly) that can be planted and grown. I love to dig in the dirt, I love the smell of the ground wet with rain, I love to see new leaves or new flowers. Can’t help it! I’ve been that way since age 8 when I transplanted my first plant from my mother’s garden and was given the awesome privilege and responsibility to care for it.
Also among my favorite things are the creatures that God has placed on this earth. Over the years I have been an observer of many animals, especially birds and butterflies. Just the very fact that they can fly has been of wonder to me. And that birds know exactly how to build a nest, or that butterflies know exactly which plant to lay their eggs on so that the unattended caterpillar will have a ready-made diner at his ‘fingertips’ the moment he manages to break out of that tiny egg and his first instinct is to start chomping has filled me with amazement.
With the exception of grasshoppers, Texas leaf cutter ants, tomato horn worms, a tick, flea, or occasional fly I try not to hurt or kill any creature. Oh, I take that back. I’m Dr. Death to a scorpion, black widow, or brown recluse, and a copperhead, if I see him first. None of those has a chance with me!
So, on with the dilemma. Back in May and then again in early June the Master Gardeners of Smith County wanted to come see my flower gardens and determine if they were worthy to have on the Garden Tour in May, 2010. I only really garden in the back yard and have very eclectic taste in the planting of my flowers. I love masses of flowers. However, in the street facing front yard I present a very ordinary subdivision nearly-all -look -alike yard. This presentation doesn’t usually bother me one bit but with the Master Gardeners coming, well…………….. So, I bought a beautiful planter and an already planted pot to set in it to go by my front door under the Welcome sign.
As the summer has heated up I have had to increase the frequency with which I water the plants in that planter. I have one of those small, coiled hoses that I use to water it and the pots of geraniums that are located in the front bed. I go out about every 3 days and give all the pots a good drink.
Since the temperature is hovering around 95 by mid afternoon I realized that I needed to throw some water on the plants before they got stressed. Having watered the geraniums I turned and started watering the plants in the beautiful urn at the front door. I noticed how nicely the azalea, the creeping Jenny, and the ivy were doing as I moved the shower nozzle around the perimeter of the planter.
All of a sudden I felt something land on my bare foot! I’m used to tree frogs landing on me when I’m working in my flower beds so I looked down thinking that would be the case. Not so! There, attached to my toe, was a tiny baby wren, just recently feathered, with big wide yellow bill, beady little eyes, and and pink toes. My first inclination was to scream and shake my foot but upon realizing what it was I scooped it up and started looking up on the inside of the porch to see if I could locate the nest it must have fallen out of. Nothing! It was at this point that I realized he had jumped out of the pot I was watering. I gently set him back under a plant in the planter.
He didn’t like this and immediately jumped right back out and into a corner of the porch. I called Sylvia, my photographer daughter, to quickly bring her camera. She took several shots of him as he cowered in the corner on the concrete. We decided that I should now put him back in the pot.
Bofore turning loose of him this time I did kinda search to see if I could find the nest and put him back in it. Sure enough, there was the tiny domed nest made of moss bits, pine straw, and downy feathers. I had apparently collapsed this beautiful strucker with my spray of water. I gently lifted what looked like it might have been the opening. To my dismay there were three more babies inside. One did not move but the other two appeared to still be breathing. I carefully placed the forlorn little one back with his siblings just as the mother showed up and set up a fuss in a crepe myrtle tree about 4 feet away.
Since that time I have heard her distressing whistles. I haven’t been able to see if she has come back to the nest or has decided to abandon it. My dilemma? Being a nice guardian who feels it is my responsibility to try to correct my mistakes, I want to go out and assist her. What if the one baby is dead? What if more than one is dead? What do mother birds do with a dead baby in the nest? Will it make her leave the live ones to die? Are they cold and wet because I watered their bed? Is the old adage true that the mother will smell your scent and not return to the nest once it’s been touched by humans?
All I can do, I’ve decided, is to tiptoe to the front door window occasionally and peep out as inconspicuously as possible to see what will come to pass. Right now I hear the mother’s distressed song in the crepe myrtle tree.
Copyright T. Cole 2009
