Paco and Juanita are parents. Maybe they aren’t first-time parents but they now have a new batch of little ones to take care of. And at the same time, there was a death in the family. My best guess, impact with the front door. This is odd, however, as the front door glass panels are small and not like a picture window which you would think could mislead a bird into believing they had the right of way.
But the cycle of life doesn’t stop. Not for anyone or anything unless maybe you are working with vampire blood. Then, maybe. As I’ve mentioned over the past few months, birding has become a real adventure for me. I love it. I don’t think I’m in danger of becoming a birder, but all I will say is that I now pay attention. That’s all.
I have no grand plans, no need to track and record my finds, outside of my personal interests. It’s pouring at the moment, and I wonder where Paco and Juanita are, where they are riding out this little tempest. I worry about them. I worry about them because I now feel like we know each other a bit. I know where I can sit on the outside patio. I keep watch for ravens who might have discovered the nest. I water the tree that holds the nest. Connection, maybe it’s just that.