The Bird Outside the Window

This might look like a pile of leaves and sticks, but it is a blackbird nesting in the bush I really hate outside the front of my house.

Last week I decided to finally stop procrastinating and attack the prickly bastard of a bush with secateurs, shears, and a flamethrower.  I conjured up an amazing self-image involving Sigourney Weaver and the film Aliens, and got to work.

Barely three cuts into the evil bush there was loud squawking and plentiful flapping, and a brown noisy blur exited the bush stage left.

I didn’t think any more of it until I’d hacked enough of the malingering vegetation away and could see an amazing nest with two eggs (there might be more than two eggs but I was too upset to think that I’d disturbed a bird in her nest to really peer in – I didn’t want to make a bad situation worse).  I went inside and had a shower.

It was OK though, because she came back!  And there she sits.  We can see her through our front bay window and yesterday she was sleeping with her head tucked under her wing.  We think of her as our friend, and can’t wait for her eggs to hatch.

This morning K-man asked what kind of bird it is.

Me: It’s a blackbird.

Him: But it’s brown.

Me: Female blackbirds are brown.  Only the males are black.

Him: Then why is it called a blackbird?  Why not brownbird?

Me: Patriarchy.

Him: Oh.


5 Responses to “The Bird Outside the Window”

  1. 1 Jonathan June 12, 2011 at 1:16 pm

    I found your blog again :) (Google Reader cached the Vogon Destructor fleet message)

  2. 3 jennatjugglinglife June 13, 2011 at 3:50 pm

    That’s a lucky bird–and being able to watch her sounds just lovely.

  3. 4 Bella Rum June 18, 2011 at 10:53 pm

    “Black” birds indeed. The boys always get preference. Try to get pics when they hatch.

  4. 5 Jonathan June 20, 2011 at 4:13 pm

    p.s. Wendy turfed a family of hedgehogs out of our compost heap late one autumn a few years ago. She almost cried – there was no way the babies were going to make it through the winter anyway.

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