NEW RESIDENTS AT THE GARDEN CENTER
Fall 2008 |
If you stopped by the Garden Center over the past two weeks, you could have concerns about the sanity of the staff. You may have seen Jane in her potting area talking to the benches, or Carol standing by the gazebo staring at her feet and yelling “hey, get outta there”. No, we have not worked our folks into a state of mental instability – Jane and Carol were chatting with Daryl and Rebel, our new residents. |
In July a pair of Carolina Wrens, a species noted for its bizarre nesting locations, chose a gap in the insulation inside the store to build a nest. We enjoyed watching them hop along the greenhouse rafters carrying sticks and bits of fuzz during construction. |
By August, the sticks were replaced by worms and insects. We were excited to have a family living in the store and frequently heard the loud peeps of hungry kids. But our excitement was short-lived. Within three hours of each other, both parents flew into one of our ceiling fans and were killed. My only explanation is that there must have been an irresistible insect somewhere on the base of the fan. |
We could hear the peeps of the hungry babies growing louder, so Allan grabbed his tallest ladder and climbed up to check out the situation. He came down holding a nest filled to the brim with three baby birds so young that they could only hold up their heads for a couple of seconds. |
We grabbed a wren house off the shelf, removed the roof and set the nest inside. Then we all stood around and watched to see what would happen. Nothing. Not quite sure why we thought putting baby wrens in a wrenhouse would magically resolve the situation, but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. |
That evening the babies came home with Allan and me, and I searched the internet for guidance. Armed with an eye-dropper, plastic straw and a can of cat food, I attempted to impersonate a mama wren. Amazingly it worked and they survived the night. The next day I did the same thing…and the next day….and the next… |
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We soon developed a routine – every 30 minutes they started crying, so every 30 minutes I stopped whatever I was doing and fed them. And every 30 minutes immediately after eating, they each pooped. So every 30 minutes I changed out their paper towel bedding. I do not have biological children of my own, but it sure sounds familiar. |
I brought their box to work with me to maintain the routine and my office smelled like a mixture of canned pet food and bird. Since my office was in the same area as the landscaping crew, that wasn’t much of an issue. |
I moved from catfood mixed with hardboiled egg yolk to babyfood (strained beef) to puppychow soaked in water to mealworms. The smallest, and presumably youngest, bird didn’t survive, but the other two were actually thriving on this bizarre diet. |
I worried. Are they getting the right mix of nutrients? I never see them drink – do they know how? How will they learn to hunt for themselves? How will they learn to sing? Will they ever have friends and a mate? How, when and where can I release them? What about migration? Like any new mother, I became seriously neurotic. |
We released Rebel and Daryl at the garden center on Labor Day weekend by moving their box into the gazebo. We assumed they would leave immediately. Didn’t happen. While they enjoyed their freedom and spent their days industriously digging in the mulch, hopping from tree to tree and exploring the undersides of leaves, every morning and evening they were waiting for me to show up with my tweezers and worms. |
As of this writing, the “kids” have been free for over 2 weeks. While it’s hard to tell them apart, I believe it’s Rebel (who throughout their development seemed to be about 5 days ahead of Daryl) who has the more adventurous spirit. I didn’t see Rebel at all for the past two days and I assumed that was it – he had left for good. But this morning Jane ran in with the news that Rebel was back. I fed him a couple of wax worms and suspect he’ll take off again, like a 20 year old kid who stops by home for a good meal from mom before heading back into the world. |
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I don’t know how long the guys will be with us. From my research, I learned some good news and bad news about the migration question. The good news is that Carolina Wrens do not migrate, so I can cancel my plans to pack them in my car to drive south. The bad news is that they do not migrate and need to survive the winter. | |
The next time you stop by the garden center, be sure to look for Rebel and Daryl. They are small brown birds with long tan “eyebrow” stripes. And if you see me standing in the gazebo yelling “hey hey hey”, I assure you that I haven't lost my mind. Mom’s just calling the kids to dinner. |
Epilogue...
After this newsletter was published, Rebel disappeared for almost a week. He showed up one evening to hang out with Daryl, but was gone by the next morning. He never returned.
Daryl, on the other hand, showed no sign of wanting to leave. The Graybuck meal train was fine with him. He became very loud in his demands for worms and the entire staff was happy to oblige. We were in jeopardy of a “failure to launch” with our younger wren. I finally laid down the law – Daryl could only be given worms first thing in the morning and at night. The only exception was if a child was visiting the garden center, since I figured feeding the wren was educational. Daryl had to fend for himself the rest of the day. We bought live crickets for him to hunt and he did pretty well. Eventually he was less interested in spending time with us. Then he too was gone.
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